A Rendezvous with Death
by DeltaDawn'sDreams
Summary: From different directions and for different reasons, Bella and Edward wind up in the same sleepy southern town of Macon, Georgia. Who, or what, called them there and why?
1. Chapter 1 Pain

**Disclaimer: **Listen Carefully cause I'm only going to say this once through this whole story. I do not own Twilight or any of its characters. This a work of fan fiction using characters from the Twilight Saga Books which is trademarked to Stephanie Meyer. It is written for entertainment purposes only.

******AN:**_I have to Thank _**__****Kerry Delaney **_for the Lovely new Banner she made for me! Your are awesome! And Many many thanks to _**__****Rita01tx **_for endless hours of discussing this story, plots, ideas, twists and turns and many many edits and re-edits! Thank You Girlfriend! You's da best Beta evah!_

**A Rendezvous with Death**

**Chapter 1 **_**"Pain"**_

_All these, however, were mere terrors in the night, phantoms of the mind that walk in darkness._

**Washington Irving,_ "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"_**

_Sometimes, life sucks. Sometimes, life is the most beautiful thing you will ever know. You'll forget these lines in a few hours, a few days or weeks but, when this story is told, when the final word is written, you will remember them. The question is, what will you see…a sucky life or a beautiful life? Me? Hah! Don't ask me now…ask me when it's over._

EPOV

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Dammit! It was happening again!

I woke abruptly to find myself sitting upright in the middle of my bed shaking, burning up, sweat pouring off me, and choking…again. I couldn't breathe, couldn't speak; my heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest. I wanted to run, to escape, but it was impossible. My greatest fear was that, one of these nights, my throat wouldn't open and my lungs would burst, or collapse, or do whatever they do when oxygen is denied them. It was a terrifying feeling and I was damn near at that point now. Desperate for air, I clawed at my throat and prayed for help.

_Oh, God, please!_ I silently begged. _Don't take me from Mac, too. She needs her daddy!_

I coughed and gasped in relief as air was finally sucked back into my lungs. My throat was raw from whatever had closed it off and, as it had all the times before, the experience left me drained and trembling. I pulled my knees up and propped my elbows on them as I raked both hands through my damp hair.

Guilt was a powerful thing; it ate at me constantly. I was being punished for being alive and, as far as I was concerned, I deserved that and more. Everywhere, in every room, wherever I turned, I saw my wife. That wasn't even the worst of it. That would be looking into my baby girl's eyes every day and faking a smile for her. Even though she still loved me and always smiled back, the words she never said still rang in my head.

_You killed my mother! You killed your wife!_

It was all in my mind, of course, but my beleaguered conscience was killing me.

I closed my eyes in an attempt to shut out the guilt and the phantom images of her I saw all around me, in the very bed I lay in, but it was no use. Flashes of her body still strapped in the car, her head lying in the pristine snow three feet behind the car, and the horror stricken expression forever frozen on her once lovely face would haunt me forever.

Ever since Kate had died, this nightmare, or whatever it was, had intensified and become a nightly thing for me. You didn't have to be a psychologist to figure out why. I was responsible for the death of my wife.

~oOo~

Wednesday, December 18, 2012

I was supposed to leave work early to pick up Mackenzie from kindergarten and take her over to the auditorium at the big school for a last rehearsal before Friday's performance. The annual Christmas pageant included a special show this year that had the kids practicing two afternoons a week. Kate usually took her, watched her practice and brought her home but, on this day, she was joining her friends for Christmas shopping.

Things began to unravel when news reached me that a witness had come forward on the case I was working on, a case I was about to lose without this witness and I couldn't let that happen. She said she would only talk to me and it had to be right then, before she lost her nerve, or not at all. I'd called Kate and explained my problem, promising to meet them at home as soon as I could and take us all out to dinner. Ever the loving, supportive wife and mother, she graciously agreed to curtail her shopping in order to pick up our daughter.

At 3:30 pm, my meeting with the witness was interrupted by an urgent phone call from the school. Kate had never shown up and Mackenzie was the only child still waiting for one of her parents to pick her up. Thank God my witness indicated she was comfortable enough to continue with one of the partners because I was on the verge of a major meltdown when I tried calling Kate on the way to my car and got no answer. En route, my frustration was compounded by a massive traffic jam. As a uniformed police officer inched the long line of cars forward, I could tell there'd been some kind of accident. I took the opportunity to call Kate again, cursing the idiot, rubbernecking drivers in front of me. With still no answer from my wife, I called the school to explain my predicament and let them know I would be there as soon as possible. If, in the meantime, my wife should show up, I asked them to have her call me right away. Inching yet a little further, the psychedelic flashing lights of ambulances and fire engines illuminated the scene. By now, the officer was allowing a little more traffic to pass but, as soon as my car edged forward, he threw up a hand to give cross traffic a turn. I rolled down my window, the blowing snow and bitter winds rushing into the car as if to steal all my warmth.

"What's going on, Officer?" I asked, handing him my business card.

"I'm afraid there's been a fatality, sir. It isn't official but it looks like this 18-wheeler clipped a car causing it to spin out of control. The truck tried to slow but ended up jackknifed and the woman's car slid underneath it. Terrible thing. She was a real beauty," he explained, yelling to be heard over the howling winter wind.

Knowing now that someone had died, I felt instant sympathy for the woman's family. Their whole world was about to be turned upside down.

"You can go on through now, counselor," the officer said, waving me on.

Gratefully putting my window back up, I resolved to warn Kate to be more careful on these treacherous winter roads when I got home. I pressed gently on the accelerator and began moving forward. We've all done it. We can't make ourselves not do it…look at what we're sure is going to be a horrible sight. As I crawled past the jackknifed 18-wheeler blocking the entire right-hand lane, I saw the caved in side where the car had apparently gone underneath. As I neared the front of the truck, police cars, ambulances, fire engines and the entire hood of what was once a newer model SUV came into view. My heart lunged into my chest. _No! It's not possible!_ I wouldn't allow myself to think it. Still unable look away, I continued to progress slowly, taking in the caved in headlights, crushed engine, sheared off roof and completely missing windshield peeking over the lip of the embankment. An officer blocking the driver's side of the vehicle moved and my view was no longer obstructed.

I jerked the car off to the side of the road, scrambled out the door and hit the ground running, screaming her name.

"Kate! Oh, God, no! Kate!"

An officer made a grab to stop me from descending onto the scene but missed and it was too late…I'd seen her headless body, hands still gripping the steering wheel. Soon, three officers were trying to hold me back but I managed to tear free and run towards the car. One of them tackled me and, in the struggle, we stumbled. He finally pinned me to the ground, my face now mere inches away from the frozen blue eyes and tangled blonde hair of my beautiful wife's decapitated head lying on the ground.

~oOo~

I lunged from my bed as if I could run away from the horrific scene tearing through my mind yet again. The memory ripped at my heart and soul and I knew there was no escape as long as I remained here, in this house, among all her things.

I couldn't take it anymore, of that I was absolutely certain. I also had to think about what was best for Mackenzie. It had been three months since Kate died but she was still having a hard time getting a grip on the fact that Mommy wasn't here anymore. She seemed to understand the concept of death, and that her mother wasn't coming back, but remembering she wasn't _here_ was difficult for her. Earlier today, she'd been coloring quietly in the living room. When she finished her picture, she ran into the kitchen saying "Mommy, Mommy, look what I..." and then she remembered. I saw her shoulders slump, her brilliant smile falling as she turned to go back to the living room. I did what I could, telling her I wanted to see her drawing and making a fuss over the beautiful colors she'd used. It seemed to help her but it wasn't enough for me.

I padded silently down the darkened hall to check on Mackenzie. Much like her father, Mac fought off sleep for as long as possible, clinging to consciousness until her little body gave up the fight. Very much unlike me, she remained motionless, almost corpselike, until she woke up. This scared the crap out of me in the beginning and I would check on her several times a night, placing my hand on her chest to assure myself she was still breathing. The rare exceptions were the nights I would find tears on her pillow and soft cheeks. Those nights broke my heart.

As I smoothed a stray curl of copper back in place, a plan began forming in my mind. I had to get away from this house…this city. I needed space to breathe and so did Mac. An extended vacation was certainly a viable option. Mac had been too traumatized to return to kindergarten after the accident and I was prepared to take a sabbatical from work for as long as it took for us to find peace again.

Of course, nothing would erase the unbearable memory of witnessing my wife's demise and knowing I was responsible but living here with all of her things as a constant reminder? I just couldn't do it anymore, yet I wasn't prepared to dispose of them as if she'd never existed. I would never…ever, forget Kate and I wouldn't let our daughter forget her either but, because her death had been so violent, sudden and traumatic for us both, and right before the holidays, as well, I felt it was imperative for us to get away for awhile.

Tomorrow was our weekly Sunday dinner with my parents. It would be the perfect opportunity to talk to them about taking a sabbatical. I would ask Carlisle if he could handle the workload in my absence and Mother would no doubt volunteer to help with any travel arrangements we might need.

Now, with something positive to look forward to, I kissed Mac's forehead and made my way back to my empty bed.


	2. Chapter 2 Escape Plan

_**AN: OMG! I didn't expect such a large following for the first chapter of my new fic! There were so many I couldn't possibly thank you all so let me take a moment to say "Thank You for following me" to each and every one of you! As always I have to send a shout out of Thanks to Rita01tx for her editing genius! That done let's see what Edward is up to now...**_

**A Rendezvous with Death**

_"Does the walker choose the path or the path the walker?"_

**Garth Nix, _Sabriel_**

**Chapter 2 "Escape Plan"**

EPOV

Sunday, March 17, 2013

When my mother heard Kate and I were expecting a baby, she immediately had one of the many spare guest rooms in their home remodeled into a nursery. Just last year, she'd updated it to a "big girl's" room. Esme was an interior designer and, despite her ever-growing list of high-end clients, she always jumped at the chance to redo a room in either her house or mine. Together, she and Kate had designed and furnished every room in our house, which brought the two of them closer. Although I was anxious to discuss my plans for a vacation, I refrained until after dinner when Mac bounded up to her room to play. Esme, Carlisle and I retired to the living room with brandy and coffee.

"So, Edward. How is she coping with things, now? And how are you? You look dreadfully tired, sweetheart."

Mom wasn't normally the worrying kind but some things were just obvious, like the dark circles under my eyes. I was surprised no one had mentioned it before since I _did_ look tired and I _was_ more than a little frazzled.

"In all honesty, Mother, I think she's doing better than I am. Sometimes she forgets Kate is...that Kate isn't there anymore. She'll come bouncing into a room calling her name to tell her something, or show her something, and then reality hits her. It's devastating to watch her little shoulders slump and her face fall. She tries so hard to be brave for me but there are some nights when I go in to check on her…well, I can tell she's cried herself to sleep."

"Oh, the poor little angel! She must be holding in so much pain," Esme lamented, squeezing her hands together in distress.

"You're not doing much better, are you, son?" my father observed.

"Not really, Dad. Everywhere I turn, I'm reminded of Kate…even the bed I sleep in. The nightmares won't stop. I wake up choking and relive that horrible night over and over again. I see those images..."

I sat my brandy down on the coffee table and scrubbed my hands over my face in an attempt to push them out of my mind's eye. I was edgy and having difficulty sitting still. All I wanted to do was grab Mac and escape…escape the memory, the reminders and the pain. I stood up raking my hands through my hair as I paced back and forth.

I couldn't possibly begin to describe just how bad the nightmares were or how frightening the choking feeling was. I couldn't even tell which was worse; the dreams, the choking, reliving the night she died several times a day, or just existing in the house, reminded of happier times with her at every turn and trying to "live" a _normal _life without her. That was only what _I_ was going through. If I included what my daughter was forced to endure...

"If she'd died of natural causes, even at such a young age, a sudden heart attack or some illness, I don't think it would be such an issue for Mac and me, nor would I feel the need to get away. But the violent way in which she died, I just... I can't..."

"Perhaps you should seek counseling for Mackenzie and yourself, honey," Esme suggested, referring to Mac by her given name.

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you both about," I said, glancing up the grand staircase to make sure Mac wasn't on her way down. "I'd rather not jump into counseling just yet, Mom. My gut instinct tells me what Mac and I really need is quality time alone together, as well as distance from all the constant reminders of Kate.

Now, with that in mind, I was thinking about taking a sabbatical from work; an extended vacation, of sorts. We can do that, right? I mean, Mac didn't return to kindergarten after the accident and it wasn't as if it was mandatory, anyway. Plus, she doesn't start first grade until next fall so it shouldn't pose a problem for us to get out of that house for a while. Well, at least long enough to let the fact that her mother really and truly isn't coming back soak in. As for myself, I would give anything to simply breathe easily again. Dad, do you think you could handle my caseload if it comes down to it?"

I watched their faces carefully as they listened intently to my cry for help, which was exactly what I was trying so desperately to convey.

"Of course, I can, son! If that's what you feel is best, Edward, then do what you must. Your job will be there whenever you want it. Did you have anywhere particular in mind?"

"No, not at the moment, Dad. I was hoping perhaps you could help me figure something out, Mother. Just keep in mind that, under the circumstances, Disneyland is obviously not an option," I smirked. It was my sorry attempt at a joke and it went over like a lead balloon. "I need someplace we can stay for an undetermined amount of time. The longer we can stay in one place, the better chance we'd have of healing."

"Hmmm," Carlisle hummed, tapping his chin with one long finger. "I might have just the thing for you, Edward. Let's go to my office, shall we?"

I followed him into his home office where he sat down at his ornate, antique, cherry wood desk and handed me a slim file folder. Esme came to stand beside me and examine the folder, as well.

"I'd always planned on talking to you about this at some point. Unfortunately, Kate passed away and, in all the chaos, I completely forgot about it until the file popped up again among some old family papers a couple days ago."

I opened the file to reveal an aged black and white photo of a rather large plantation home, printed on thick, yellowed paper. Behind that was a more recent color photograph of the same plantation taken at least 35 years ago. The stately, white, columned home was an Antebellum beauty with a manicured lawn and tree-lined driveway. Even in the old black and white photo, it was stunning. As I reached for the color pic, a strange sense of detachment swept through my mind and everything else around me fell away. It wasn't until I felt Carlisle tugging at the photo to remove it from my stiff fingers that I became aware of my surroundings once again.

"What is this place? Where is it?" I asked, scanning through the paperwork that accompanied the photographs.

"That's Cullen House. It's located in Macon, Georgia…well, on the outskirts, anyway," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Cullen House? You bought this?"

"No, not at all. It was left to me by my father, just as it was left to him by his father. Built by our ancestors shortly before the Civil War, it's been owned exclusively by our family all these years."

"Why haven't I ever heard of it before? Who's living there now?"

"No one lives there. It has stood empty for 150 years, although it's still maintained. Some antediluvian agreement was apparently made between our family and the caretaker's family decades ago. A groundskeeper and housekeeper are currently taking care of the place. From what I understand, it's been up for sale many times by several members of our family but, for whatever reason, it never sells. There's a 120 acre peach orchard included in the property, as well."

"A huge peach orchard in Georgia, a well-maintained plantation home, and no one is interested in buying it? That doesn't sound right."

"My thoughts, precisely! I thought maybe it would be the perfect distraction and getaway for you and Mac. A grand old mansion in an historic town, away from the city traff..." Carlisle stumbled over the word then cleared his throat. That was another reason I felt the need to get away for a while. Everyone around me walked on eggshells trying not to say anything that would remind me of Kate's horrific death. As if it ever left my mind.

"...plenty of space for Mac to play and enough to keep your mind occupied. You'd still have all the time you and Mac need together to get beyond the grieving process," Carlisle continued, shifting gears as though he hadn't just made it more obvious by stopping mid-sentence. I didn't blame them, though. Their hearts were in the right place. There was no proper etiquette when it came to death.

"Well, it does sound ideal for the situation. What would you like me to do with it?" I asked. I wasn't sure if he wanted me to sell it, live in it, or what.

"That's entirely your decision, Edward. I'm giving it to you. The deed and paperwork are all there. You just need to sign them."

"Wait. What?" I asked, stunned.

"When I ran across the file again back in late October, early November, my first thought was to give it to you as a Christmas present. I thought Kate would enjoy the remodeling of it, if you chose to keep it, and it could have been a nice place for your family to vacation. I set the file on my desk with every intention of taking action on it but then Kate was…uh, gone and it's just been sitting here all this time. When you mentioned getting away for an extended period, it reminded me of Cullen House," Carlisle explained.

"Why? Don't you want it? I mean, it's been in the family for years. Don't you want to keep it?"

"I'm not the least bit interested, son. I like the city. Although I've never been there, I did have someone look into the house years ago and, from what they said, the house is in great shape, if a little outdated here and there. The grounds are lovely and well-kept but the orchard is in dire need of attention. The taxes are paid out of an old financial trust, as well as the salaries of the groundskeeper and housekeeper. Sell it, renovate it and keep it for a vacation home, or turn it over to the local historical society, if you want. I seem to remember something about them being interested in it."

"This may be just the thing we need, Dad. I can't thank you enough," I said, already making plans in my head on how to tell Mac we were going on a trip.

~o0o~

Monday, March 18, 2013

I'd just finished confirming with Esme that she'd booked our flights and reserved a car from a rental company at Atlanta's Hartsfield-Jackson airport that would put us in Georgia late Wednesday morning. Since I would want to see the house and grounds before making up my mind about what to do with it, I'd booked a hotel room for Wednesday evening in Macon, with the option of staying longer if the house wasn't suitable for occupation. That would be determined Thursday morning after our first visit to Cullen House.

Now, all I had left to do was tell Mac and pack our things.

Leaning back against her headboard, I had Mac tucked up under my arm so I could read her favorite bedtime story while she clutched her stuffed bunny to her chest and looked at the pictures. It wasn't so long ago that she would be fast asleep long before even the shortest story was finished but, since we lost Kate, she'd fight to stay awake until well after the story was done. Tonight felt different, somehow; as if she sensed my newfound hope that relief was waiting for both of us right around the corner.

I spoke softly as I read, using a different voice for narration and each character.

"_...he was almost too sleepy to think any more. Then he looked beyond the thorn bushes out into the big dark night. Nothing could be further than the sky._

"_I love you right up to the moon," he said and closed his eyes._

"_Oh, that's far," said Big Nut Brown Hare. "That is very, very far."_

_Big Nut Brown Hare settled little Nut Brown Hare into his bed of leaves. He leaned over and kissed him good night. Then he laid down close by and whispered with a smile, "I love you right up to the moon...and back."_

I closed the book and gave her a squeeze.

"I love _you_ to the moon and back, Daddy," she said, grinning up at me. It had become our routine these past few months.

"And I love _you_ more," I told her, kissing the top of her head. "Are you ready for bed, baby?"

"I guess, but I'm really not tired," she pouted, not ready to give up quite yet.

I tried not to grin. She always said that right before sleep finally claimed her.

"Well, then; I guess I'll have to tell you tonight what I have planned for us to do tomorrow," I said in a faux resigned tone.

"What, Daddy, what?" her little eyebrows shot up as she waited excitedly for my reply.

"Tomorrow we are gonna pack."

"Pack? Pack what?"

"Well, clothes and any toys you want."

"What we doing that for, Daddy?" she yawned, clearly finding my news rather boring.

"Because we're going to Georgia. Would you like that?"

I got up and guided her under the covers, pulling them up around her and tucking her in. I sat on the edge of the bed looking down at her. She was my everything now.

"I don't know, Daddy. Who's Georgia?"

Her little eyebrows were furrowed with confusion. I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Georgia isn't a person, Mac…it's a place. There's a big old house and lots and lots of peach trees there that belong to you and me and I thought we might go visit them. Maybe even stay a while."

"That sounds like fun but, Daddy?" she said yawning yet again.

"Yes?"

I watched as she drifted even closer to what I hoped would be the peacefulness of sleep.

"You're s'pose to visit people, not trees and houses."

_**AN: Awww! She's so cute and Edward is such a sweet Daddy! Think they will find happiness in Georgia? As always your thoughts are eagerly awaited. If you want to see/hear the bed time story Edward read to Mac you can find the You Tube link to the animated video on my profile page. You can also find the link to the video teaser trailer I made for this story there as well. Thanks for reading!**_


	3. Chapter 3 Going Home

**A Rendezvous with Death**

**Chapter 3 "Going Home"**

_"There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in the proportion."_

**Edgar Allan Poe**

**EPOV**

**Thursday, March 21, 2013**

By the time we neared our destination, the heavily hanging clouds that had been making the day feel dark, cold and gloomy began breaking up to reveal a brilliant blue sky. Of course, the sun still hid behind the most stubborn ones. On the plus side, the temperature was noticeably warmer and I doubted we'd even need our jackets by noon.

According to the GPS in the rental car, Cullen House was just a couple more miles away. My heart began to race when I made the turn down Weeping Willow Road. Almost there. An inexplicable sense of joy and excitement increased incrementally with every second ticking by. The closer we got, the more I felt like some kind of celebration was in order, complete with champagne. It took all I had to keep the wild giddiness reined in.

However, Mac seemed to be absorbing my excitement by osmosis.

"Are we there yet, Daddy?" she shrilled for the millionth time from her car seat in the back.

She was still strapped in but clinging to the window so she wouldn't miss anything. If it hadn't still been too damp and cool to have the windows down, I'm sure she would have had her head hanging halfway out the window like a dog. It made me smile to see her so happy.

"Not quite yet, Mac, but very soon, now. See all those trees? I'm pretty sure they're all ours," I grinned, pointing out my left window at row upon row of peach trees stretching as far as the eye could see. Small buds and the beginnings of tiny leaves adorned them and I imagined they would be in full bloom within a month.

"All of them? But, how come they don't have any leaves?" she asked, scrunching up her nose.

I suppose seeing that many nearly naked trees all at once would be disappointing to a child.

"Technically, it's still winter, baby. They're all sleeping right now but they're going to wake up soon and burst open into clouds of beautiful, pink flowers."

"Wake up, trees! Wake up!" she yelled.

Her innocent exuberance brought me such joy; I couldn't help but encourage it.

"And, in the summer, all those flowers are going to become big, juicy peaches."

"Wow! That's a lot of peaches! Good thing we like 'em, huh, Daddy?"

"Yes, yes, it is," I laughed. No doubt, in her sweet mind, we were going to eat every one of them ourselves. "We're almost there, bunny. This is our turn so the house should be at the end of the driveway up ahead."

I turned left off Weeping Willow Road onto a very long, red brick drive. The massive trees lining it stretched overhead, intertwining their branches in a protective embrace. The sun, finally breaking through the cloud cover, shone brightly through the tangle causing a strobe light effect that made it impossible to see the house even though we were mere seconds from our destination. My heartbeats seemed to triple in speed. I couldn't see it!

"Where is it, Daddy?" Mac whined, straining in her car seat to see through the windshield while shielding her eyes from the flickering sunlight. She seemed as anxious as I was. "I can't see...Oh, wow!"

Oh, wow was right. My breath hitched as we broke through the shadows of the trees and Cullen House finally came into view. Shimmering in the warm sunlight, the photographs didn't come anywhere close to doing it justice. This two-story antebellum plantation home was beyond glorious. Six large white columns supported the massive front porch, with black shutters hugging every window. Some of the bushes and plants were beginning to bloom while others remained dormant. When all the trees and foliage came into full bloom in the spring and summer, it would defy description. The sheer size of it was stunning. In the pictures, it had seemed much smaller. At 6'4", even I would look like a child standing on that porch.

"Is that our house, Daddy?"

"Yes it is, baby. Well, we own it but I don't know if we're going to stay here. I..."

"Oh, please, Daddy can we stay? Can we? It's so pretty and big!"

"We'll see. It depends on what the inside looks like. No one has lived here for a very long time."

"How come? It's a pretty house."

That was a question I would have liked an answer to myself.

"I don't really know, bunny. It could be that it needs some fixing up."

"Can we go look inside?"

"That's what we're here for," I told her as I pulled to a stop in front of the house.

Exiting the car quickly, I opened the back door just in time for Mac to jump out. I still couldn't get used to the fact that she could undo the car seat all by herself. Despite that small spark of independence, she was understandably apprehensive and grabbed my hand as soon as her feet hit the ground. My foot had just hit the first step when the massive double doors opened. To my surprise, a young woman with Native American features stepped out of the house with an apron around her waist, drying her hands on a hand towel.

"Can I help you, sir?" she inquired, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Apparently she wasn't used to visitors here at Cullen House.

"Hello. I'm Edward…Edward Cullen and this is my daughter, Mackenzie," I said as I continued to the top of the stairs. "And you are?"

I held out my hand for her to shake but she just gaped at me. Mac grinned at her, all the while inching her way closer to me.

"Cullen? As in a Cullen House Cullen?" she gasped, seemingly stunned by the prospect.

"Yes; one and the same. Having just come into the property, I've come to see what exactly it is I've inherited. You must be..."

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm Leah Clearwater…the housekeeper," she apologized, finally accepting my offered hand. "I've worked here since I was a teenager but I've never met anyone from the Cullen family. In fact, I've never met anyone who had anything at all to do with Cullen House."

"Not even a lawyer?" I asked in amazement.

"No…no one. Ever."

"Well, if that's the case, do you mind if I ask how it is you get paid for the work that you do?"

"Our checks come here from a trust that was set up a long time ago. My mother used to be the housekeeper and, when she retired, I took over. She handled the details with whoever runs the trust."

"Wow! Forgive me for saying so but that's really stupid. Not on your part! I'm sorry, that didn't come out right. I hope you can see my point, though. I mean, if no one has ever been here to check on you, how do they know you even show up for work? You could just come pick up a check once a week and never lift a finger. It's a good thing you're an honest person," I added, trying to soften the implied insult. I was just dumbstruck that the employment and payroll for Cullen House was handled in such a reckless manner.

"Yes, well. You'll forgive me for saying' so but, here in the South, we tend to take people at their word, unlike city folk," she sniffed, none too kindly.

Ouch! I'd just been ignominiously stuffed into the 'city folk' category.

"You said 'our checks;' I was told there is a groundskeeper, as well..."

"Yes; that would be Jacob…Jacob Black. He should be around back, if you care to go look. It's just the two of us. Will you be staying' long?" she inquired.

Thanks for the warm welcome, lady, I thought. Apparently, my statement had offended her more than I thought, despite the fact it wasn't meant to be derogatory towards her. Dammit! We were still standing on the porch like uninvited guests. She'd made no effort to invite us into the house which, by the way, was my house. I decided it would be prudent to remind her that I was the rightful owner of Cullen House and Cullen money was paying her salary.

"That depends on the state of the interior of the house, doesn't it? Now, would you be so kind as to show me around…please? I'd also like you to introduce me to Mr. Black, if it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all, Mr. Cullen."

Well, that went well! I smiled down at Mac, who'd heard the entire exchange. Squeezing her hand to reassure her that everything was okay, it suddenly dawned on me that Leah Clearwater hadn't acknowledged Mac in any way. So much for Southern hospitality, I growled to myself.

With an exaggerated sweep of her hand, she opened the double front doors and stepped inside, holding them open for us to pass through. To my great delight, the house was as gorgeous and immaculate inside as it was outside. The foyer alone was stunning; its walls painted a soft yellow. pin/55028426670303444/ Ornate, white crown molding wrapped around every room I could see from this vantage point, with large green plants tucked into every corner, except for the one on the right. That corner was occupied by an antique grandfather clock. Highly polished hardwood floors stretched as far as the eye could see. A large round table stood on the red and navy Persian rug gracing the center of the foyer; a crystal vase full of fresh day lilies sitting on its glossy table top. My eyes were drawn up to the delicate crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling above it. On my left and right were glass-paned pocket doors with white trim. One set led to the parlor while the other opened into a music room complete with baby grand piano. Two large white pillars flanked the entrance into the rest of the house. On the left was a long hallway and, on the right, a staircase. I was more than impressed and we were still standing in the foyer.

A rather loud gasp caught my attention and I looked down at Mac. Her eyes were wide as saucers and her mouth hung open as she swiveled her head back and forth staring at everything. I was going to have to teach her about keeping a poker face, one of these days.

Leah Clearwater spoke not a word as she led us down the long hallway. With a slight jog to the right and through a doorway, we passed through the very large kitchen. I took in as much as I could with Leah walking as if her ass was on fire. It was nicely done…all clean and bright, although the appliances were outdated by quite a few years. Hey, is that a Belfast sink? Definitely keeping that! A pair of French doors let out onto a sumptuous deck where we found Jacob Black putting out patio furniture that also seemed a little out-of-date but looked as though it had been expensive in its day.

"Jake, this here is Mr. Edward Cullen," Leah announced, disdain dripping in her voice.

"Cullen? Really?" Jacob put down the chair he'd been carrying and came forward to greet us. He, too, had Native American features with short, black hair and deep, mahogany skin. At least he had a kind smile and decent manners.

"Hello, I'm Edward Cullen"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Edward. I'm Jacob but you can jest call me Jake like everyone else."

Just like that, we were on a first name basis, which was fine with me. Too bad Leah had to draw that line in the sand. I shook his hand and looked down at Mac to introduce her. Biting my tongue to keep from laughing, I watched her huge hazel eyes very slowly take Jake in from his toes to his hair. If I didn't know she was far too young for that shit, I'd think my little girl just had her first crush. Yep, teaching her how to pull a poker face was moving right to the top of my To Do list, just to be on the safe side.

"Jacob, this is my daughter, Mackenzie. Mac, this is Mr. Black."

Jake grinned and bent down to her level, offering to shake her hand.

"Why, hello there, Miss Mackenzie. You can call me Jake, too."

"Hi, Mr. Jake! You can call me Mac, if you wanna," she said, her little cheeks blushing brightly.

Oh, Lord! I thought, mentally rolling my eyes. She watched him return to his full height and forgot to breathe. Though he was a couple inches shorter than me, I'm sure he seemed like a giant to Mac.

"If you'll excuse me, I have work to do," Leah huffed and, without waiting for a reply, stormed back into the house as though we'd said something highly inappropriate.

"Fun, ain't she?"

"She's all sunshine and warmth," I replied. "Are you and Leah related?"

"Oh, Hell no!" he grimaced. "So, Edward; I gotta say, we ain't never met anyone from your family before and we've been workin' here for years. What brings you to Cullen House now, after all this time?"

"I just inherited the property and wanted to see what kind of shape it's in."

"You got any plans for the old girl?"

"What girl, Daddy?" Mac asked.

Was that the green-eyed monster coming out in my little girl already?

"No, Mac. He meant the house. People often call houses and cars girls, sometimes even giving them girl's names."

"Oh, that's kinda funny. I like it," she said, looking up at me very pleased with this idea.

"I haven't made up my mind about that, just yet," I said, returning to Jake's question. "I suppose it all depends on the shape she's in."

"She's in lovely condition, considerin' her age. The last time she was remodeled was in the late 80's. Nearly all the furniture is antique and true to the original time period of 1860 but, at some point in the past, they added plumbin' and bathrooms off nearly every room, all of which are in great shape, havin' been remodeled in the 80's, as well. She's got 19 bedrooms, 15 baths, 5 parlors, a music room, a bar, a billiards room, a large eat-in kitchen, a formal dinin' room, a ball room and an office. Outside, we have a 120-acre peach orchard, large backyard, swimmin' pool, greenhouse and formal garden. There's also a Victorian house out back where I live," he told us proudly. "Leah has her own home across town."

Thank God for small favors, I thought.

It had warmed up considerably by now and, as I suspected, we had no need of our jackets. We left them on the deck as Jake took us on a tour of the gardens, backyard and pool before showing us the Victorian home he lived in since it, too, was Cullen property. Apparently, it was part of the deal that the housekeeper and groundskeeper were permitted to live there for as long as they were employed and kept it maintained. By the time he led us to the edge of the orchard, Mac was holding onto Jake's hand. Heaven help me! As the sun finally chased away the last of the clouds, it was evident a few of the blooms were starting to open. I had no doubt that 2 or 3 days of sunshine would see these trees burgeoning with life. Jake informed me he was the only groundskeeper on the payroll; therefore, maintaining the orchard alone had been impossible.

I noticed some ramshackled old buildings far off in the distance and asked about them. Jake told me the entire property was actually 150 acres and that those buildings were once slave quarters. They'd been allowed to decay and crumble but he hadn't been allowed to destroy them without express permission of the current owner. I gave him permission to do so right away. We made our way back to the kitchen for a glass of iced tea and sandwiches, which was all there was in the house since no one ever came here. We sat down at the kitchen table while Leah prepared lunch.

"So, Edward, I know I'm probably rushin' you but have you decided what you're gonna to do with Cullen House, yet? I only ask because, if you're gonna sell it, I'll need to negotiate to keep my job or start lookin' for a new one, as well as a new home," Jake inquired and, although he said it in a good natured way, I honestly couldn't blame him for wanting to know where things stood.

"Actually, I think I'd like to spend the summer here, at least."

"Oh, Daddy, can we? Please?"

CLACK! Leah dropped the knife she'd been using to spread mayonnaise and mustard on the bread and whirled around without even attempting to pick up the knife.

"You can't be serious! Live here? With a child? You'll be sendin' her away, of course!" she insisted vehemently.

I didn't like her tone of voice or her attitude but I didn't get the chance to say a word. Before she'd even finished speaking, Jake jumped up from his chair so quickly, it tipped over and fell to the floor.

"Leah! Hold your tongue!"


	4. Chapter 4 The First Night

_**A Rendezvous with Death**_

**Chapter 4 _"The First Night"_**

_"It will do you no harm to find yourself ridiculous. _

_Resign yourself to be the fool you are... _

_...We must always take risks. That is our destiny..." _

**T.S. Eliot**_**(The Cocktail Party)**_

**Thursday, March 21, 2013**

**EPOV**

"No, Jake, let her talk. I'd like to know exactly why she doesn't want us living here," I demanded, holding my palm out to stop him interfering.

Jake gave Leah a disgusted look followed by a warning glare as he picked up his chair and sat back down. I turned in my seat and looked pointedly at Leah.

"Well, it's just that they say…in town, I mean, they…," she stammered.

As she struggled to explain herself, Jake was giving her the evil eye. As a lawyer, I was trained to notice everything and I had no doubt whatsoever that anything coming out of her mouth would be an out-and-out lie. So be it; I would get the truth, eventually. Perhaps Leah was so adamant about us not living here because she and Jake were up to some type of criminal activity. It didn't seem to me like Jake, or even Leah, for that matter, was truly the type but something was definitely going on between these two…something they were adamantly in disagreement about sharing with me.

"Well, they say that, since no one has lived here for so long…the rumor is that, uh, it's not safe for anyone to live here," she exhaled in a rush, finally managing to spit out her absolutely absurd falsehood.

"You mean to sit there and tell me that Cullen House, this beautiful, antebellum estate that has stood the test of time, is unsafe for human habitation? And you believe it so much you're in a panic at the thought of Mac and me staying here for the summer? That doesn't say too much about your housekeeping abilities now, does it?" I quipped.

Jake coughed to cover his laughter.

"Mac and I are going back into town to get our luggage from the hotel after lunch. We'll be back this afternoon."

My tone made it clear there would be no further arguments on the subject.

Leah looked like she wanted to rip my head off but said nothing as she returned to making our sandwiches. When she was done, she chose to leave the room instead of sitting down and eating with us.

"What was that all about?" I asked Jake, once she'd gone.

He made a point of looking at Mac uncomfortably before answering.

"Nothin', really. Leah just listens to idle gossip and then spins it to suit her needs. We've been workin' here so long without havin' to deal with a boss she probably just doesn't like the idea of havin' one now. It means she'll have to work harder," he snorted.

My common sense told me that was partly true and partly a lie. Interesting. I wondered what he meant by 'idle gossip?' Gossip about what? I didn't believe for a minute that Leah was afraid of hard work. This house was immaculately clean and well maintained. Not wanting to be bossed around or perhaps not wanting to take care of a small child, I could understand. Though Jake spoke nonchalantly, as though her comments had been no big deal, something told me there was more to it than that; much more than he was willing to share.

After lunch, Mac and I went in search of Leah. I found her in the music room dusting the furniture.

"Would you mind showing us around the house? I'd like to see the bedrooms and bathrooms before we go back to the hotel for our things," I asked.

"Of course, Mr. Cullen," she said, a little too politely.

She didn't know I saw the eye roll just as she turned. Even Mac caught it and looked up at me, confused and a little upset. I smiled and squeezed her hand in reassurance. As soon as I was able to talk to Leah alone and straighten her out, I would. Whatever her problem was with me or the family, there was no excuse for her to show her bad attitude in front of Mac or make her feel uncomfortable. Mac had been through enough.

It took a while to tour all the rooms. Leah walked us through like a real estate agent, pointing out the highlights of each one. As we climbed to the top floor, she seemed to hesitate the farther along we went. The top floor was all bedrooms with attached baths, reminiscent of a B&B. The closer we came to the end of the hall, the more anxious Leah was acting.

When we eventually came across a bedroom done up completely in pink, Mac squealed and asked if that could be hers. The room was quite large, offering a white four-poster, queen size bed covered by a pink rose quilt as the centerpiece. The walls and ceiling were pink with crown molding, wainscoting and a white ceiling medallion that held a massive crystal chandelier. White lace curtains with pink ribbon trim adorned the French doors leading out onto a balcony. All the furniture in the room was white and very grown up for such a girly room. As the polished hardwood flooring was unadorned, I could already see myself buying a large pink rug and other accessories to mark it as hers. The room across the hall just happened to be considerably more masculine and I decided I'd take it to be closer in case she needed me in the night.

Leah seemed almost distraught as Mac bounded joyfully into her new room.

"Is there something wrong with that room, Ms. Clearwater?" I asked quietly, once Mac was out of earshot.

"No, not at all, Mr. Cullen," she replied distractedly.

Despite her response, I knew something was bothering her and it seemed to get worse once we'd arrived up here, near the end of the hall. At this point, she was nearly wringing her hands and acted as if she'd bolt at the slightest provocation.

"All right, then. While I have a moment alone with you, I'd like to talk to you about something. It's pretty obvious that you don't want my daughter and me staying here, though the reason for this is not yet clear to me. However; regardless of how you feel about me or my family, I'm asking you to refrain making any remarks or gestures in front of my daughter. She's 5 years old and completely innocent of any wrongdoing. Her mother, my wife, passed away a few months ago in a tragic accident and I don't need your personal feelings making life any more difficult for her than it already is. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Cullen. I apologize. What you mistake for dislike of your family is nothin' of the kind. It's just that...well, I'm worried about people, any people, stayin' here. You bringin' a small, defenseless child here without knowin' anything about the property...I just think it's unwise. I'm worried for her safety, that's all…hers and yours."

"Is there something you know about the property that I should be worried about?"

"Nothing that I care to discuss, no," she snapped.

"Does it have anything to do with Jacob Black? Is there something I should be worried about concerning him?"

"Jake? God, no! He's about as threatenin' as a speckled pup," she gasped in dismay.

"Well, if you won't go into details, then I'm going to stand by my decision. I'm taking Mac and going into town to get our luggage and do some shopping. If there are any preparations needed in the rooms for us to stay here, please see to it while I'm gone."

With that, and an acknowledging nod of her head, Leah nearly flew down the stairs, leaving us alone to find our own way back down.

**~o0o~**

Mac had been thrilled with putting her things away and finding just the right place to put her toys. Sometimes she seemed her age and other times she reminded me of Kate, all grown up. _The interior designer gene must run deep in her blood_, I thought, watching her move a tea party set for the third time. The room was massive and she seemed even smaller moving around inside it.

That evening, when I was putting Mac to bed, she seemed happier than I had seen her in a while.

"Do you like it here, bunny?" I asked, leaning back against the headboard of her bed with her arm and head resting over my heart.

"Oh, yes! And I love my new room and my really big girl bed, too!" she giggled.

"I thought you would. You like Jacob Black a little bit, too, don't you?" I teased, tapping the tip of her nose gently with one finger. Jake was her first crush and memories like this would be precious.

"Yeah, he's cute!" she remarked with the slightest of blushes marking her soft cheeks.

"Well, don't run off and get married too quickly, okay bunny?" I ordered, arranging a stray lock of coppery hair behind her ear.

"Oh, Daddy! You'll always be my favorite!" she giggled, rolling her eyes at my obvious insanity.

**AN: As ever, Thanks to Rita, my editor and cohort! LOL See ya all next Friday, till then tell me what you think Leah's problem is! **


	5. Chapter 5 A New Day

_**A Rendezvous with Death**_

_**Chapter Five "A New Day"**_

_The more enlightened our houses are, the more their walls ooze ghosts._

**Italo Calvino, _The Literature Machine_**

**Friday, March 22, 2013**

**EPOV**

Filtered sunlight streaming across my pillow warmed my cheeks. I opened one eye, squinting against the bright light just as much as I was reveling in it. At first, I didn't recognize my surroundings and when was the last time I heard birds singing? Panic stricken, I shot up in bed. It took a moment to sink in but I finally remembered we'd come here to get away for awhile. As I dragged my fingers through my hair, the most astonishing thing occurred to me. For the first time since the night Kate died, I'd slept through the night without waking from that horrific strangling nightmare. A smile broke across my face as I fell back onto my pillows, my smile turning into laughter. I'd had a good feeling about this place the moment I laid eyes on it. Cullen House would be my refuge. She would be our salvation from sorrow and mourning. I hadn't felt this good in a long time. Hell, I couldn't remember feeling this good in…well, forever!

I sat up again still grinning and surveyed my new surroundings. Although this room was a bit more feminine than I would have liked, it was considerably more masculine than Mac's pink room. The few flower vases and beige, floral print bedspread gave the impression it had once been a grown woman's boudoir. What period furniture there was certainly befit such a room; however, the chrome and glass topped table seemed very much out of place with the 1822 four poster canopy bed and secretary that was made at least two decades before the bed. As I looked around the room, I tried to imagine what it must have looked like back in the day when the mansion had first been built. Would it even be possible to update it with modern conveniences while keeping all the period features and furnishings in place? There was only one person I'd trust with such a project…my mother, and I'd be speaking to her soon.

With a renewed sense of hope, I jumped out of bed to shower and dress for the day.

Once I'd tugged on fresh jeans, a sweatshirt and clean sneakers, I went to check on Mac. My baby girl was already awake, lying on her stomach on the new pink rug I'd bought, her little legs swinging back and forth in the air while she colored a new picture.

"Hey, bunny!" I called from her doorway.

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. In what seemed like one swift, impossibly fast move, she was flying through the air into my arms. Where did children get their energy?

"Daddy! Daddy! I love this place, Daddy! I woke up and heared birdses singing! I never heared that at our Chicago house!"

_Birdses!_ I shook my head and chuckled. She knew the right word was birds but, when she was really happy, she messed up on purpose just to be cute and Kate would always play along. But, for the first time in ages, we were both happy so, if she wanted to call them birdses then birdses they would be!

"I heard them, too! And I even had sun shining in my room and you know what?"

"What?" she cried.

"It made me want a big ol' country breakfast with bacon and eggs..."

"...And toast with jelly?"

"You got it! I'll make the bacon and eggs and you can be in charge of toast and jelly!"

Oh, I knew what a mess she would make but I didn't care!

"Yay!" she squealed as I tossed her onto my back and galloped like a horse down the hall to the stairs. We burst through the kitchen door moments later with Mac yelling "Giddy up, horsey!" and me neighing in answer to find Leah hard at work in the kitchen. She whirled around, startled at first and clutching her heart, but I swear I saw a grin threatening the corners of her lips as she turned back to her duties.

"Good morning, Leah," I said sitting Mac down on her own two feet.

I wasn't sure how to approach her this morning. My instincts told me she was a good person but, for some reason, we'd gotten off on the wrong foot and, unless she was willing to tell me why she didn't want us here, I had no clue how to get on her good side.

"Hi, Leah" Mac greeted her sweetly.

Mac's hands were clasped behind her back as she twisted back and forth at the waist.

"Good mornin', Mr. Cullen. Hello, Mackenzie. I saw the groceries you brought in last night and assumed you'd want breakfast. I've got everything ready but the eggs. How do you like them?"

"Scrambled!" we said at the same time. "With cheese!" Mac added.

We eagerly took our seats at the table already set for two. Leah brought coffee for me and orange juice for Mac. Even though she was trying hard not to let me see it, there was definitely a hint of a smile here and there.

"Leah, I know you weren't expecting us to move in like this and I honestly don't expect you to cook our meals. I can do that," I told her.

Mac looked eagerly at Leah.

"Well, you're right and wrong about that, Mr. Cullen. I wasn't expectin' you but it states in the contract that, should a member of the Cullen family take up residence at Cullen House, my role as housekeeper includes performin' the duties of cook, as well. I graduated culinary school in order to secure this position," Leah said as she added ingredients to her skillet of scrambled eggs.

"Culinary school? Really? From what you told me yesterday, I assumed the position was simply passed down to you from your mother."

"Hardly. My ma and grandma both worked here and, while I'm incredibly familiar with this house, the position was open to anyone with the right qualifications. The only advantage I had was prior knowledge of Cullen House and knowin' the exact date my ma was retirin'. Lucky for me, it coincided with my graduation from culinary school. It had been my ma's suggestion for me to go in the first place. It wasn't a requirement of the trust but she said it would give me the upper hand and that someday I'd be takin' care of one of the Cullen family members," Leah said, placing two plates in front of me and Mac.

My mouth watered at the fluffy scrambled eggs smothered in cheese, perfectly cooked strips of crispy bacon and toast with peach preserves. I noticed her gently stroking the back of Mac's hair and smiling down at her as she set the last plate down on the table. Her mood swings were giving me whiplash. One minute she was cold and harsh, and friendly the next but trying to hide it. Why?

"How did she know we'd be here? I didn't even know about this place until last Sunday," I asked, sipping the hot coffee.

"Ma knew many things but rarely explained how or why she knew them. After a while, when it always turned out that she was right, we just stopped askin' and took her at her word."

That was the most I'd heard Leah say since our arrival. At least she was being cordial and informative. Maybe the shock was wearing off and, in a day or two, I'd be able to ferret out the truth behind why she hadn't wanted us to stay.

True to her word, she was a marvelous cook and I told her so. Why she was settling for a housekeeper's pay when she could quite easily own her own restaurant was beyond me.

"Does this mean Leah will be doing all the cooking, now?" Mac asked as she took a giant bite out of her toast and jelly.

"It looks like it."

"Yay!" she exclaimed, grabbing a slice of bacon.

"Hey!" I said feigning indignation.

"Sorry, Daddy. Your eggs are okay but the rest of your cooking..."

"Oh, hush up!" I laughed.

To my surprise Leah, was giggling quietly in the corner.

"I see the kitchen is somewhat outdated. Is it still sufficient for your needs?" I asked.

"Jake and I usually jest have sandwiches. On the rare occasion that I do cook, it'll do but, if you're plannin'on stayin' very long, you might wanna update the appliances. They were new in the 80's and haven't been used much but still, they're over 30 years old. I mean, all the appliances are white, for God's sake. Even _I_ have stainless steel appliances," she chuckled.

When breakfast was over, Mac went out to play. Leah was busy doing dishes and I had no idea what to do with myself. The day was pleasantly sunny, although cool enough that I'd need to wear a jacket over my sweatshirt, so I decided to take a long walk through the grounds by myself. It was very nice to be outside for a change. I strolled around the yard and noticed the covered pool wasn't fenced. Mac could easily fall in by accident so I made sure to warn her to stay away from the pool. Since she'd never disobeyed me, I was comfortable leaving her playing a game on the back deck.

I knew practically nothing about orchards but even I could tell it had been neglected for quite a while. The trees, though only now beginning to bloom, looked overgrown with branches in my opinion. The orchard was far larger than I had imagined. By my rough calculations, there were well over 2000 trees. What in God's name could a man do with that many peach trees?

A steady banging in the distance caught my attention and I followed the sound to find Jake over by the ruins of the old slave quarters hard at work tearing one of them down. It was hard to imagine any ancestor of mine had ever owned slaves. Not only were the shacks an eyesore; they were offensive to me, personally.

"Morning, Jake."

"Mornin', Edward. Out for a stroll, are ya?"

"Yes. I suddenly realized I had nothing to do and I'm not used to that," I told him.

"I understand. Life slows to a crawl down here where the tea is sweet and the accents are sweeter, chicken is fried and biscuits come with gravy, someone's heart is always bein' blessed and summer starts in April," Jake said smiling.

"Sounds good to me but still doesn't leave much for me to do. Summer starts in April, huh?" I asked amused.

"Yup. Sometimes it is hard to keep busy. Lucky for us, it's the South and summer does seem to come early. Even then I sometimes hire out to do chores at other places jest to have somethin' to do."

"Can't say I blame you, there. Especially with no one around with plans for this place."

"What are your plans? Have you made any, yet?" he asked as he continued banging away at the old ramshackled building.

For the first time, I was getting a close up look at them. There were quite a few shacks in two rows of maybe ten each. It was hard to tell because some had collapsed into the others and some were just rubble on the ground.

"This is a lot more work than what I thought it would be, yesterday."

"I know, right? I been wantin' to rip these apart for years."

"Know of anyone who would want to help you tear them down? I'll pay them, of course."

"I think I could scrounge up a few buddies to lend a hand, yeah."

"Good. You can call them at lunch. They can start today, if at all possible."

"Will do. I'm glad you're a decisive man. Have you decided what you wanna do with this place yet?"

"No, not really. Took a walk through the orchard and it's not in great shape. Don't know what I'd do with that many peaches even if it was in excellent condition."

"Are you kiddin'? I can think of 20 things off the top of my head and Leah probably has dozens of recipes between herself, her ma and grandma, not to mention contracts with major companies. I'm sure you could negotiate if you decide to try for them. It's sad to see it all go to waste, though. Even at the height of summer, it won't get much better than it is right now. Oh, you might scrounge a few good peaches here and there but nothin' worth the effort."

"Twenty things? Really? Like what?

"Peach jam, peach preserves, peach baby food, peach wine, peach moonshine..." Jake practically sang while counting on his fingers.

"Peach wine?" I asked cutting him off, hearing only half of his reply. Between all I'd seen and heard over the past two days, a plan was forming in my head.

"Sure. It's real popular around here. Well, that and the moonshine. The locals love it and tourists take it home by the case load. Why, 'round these parts, a jar of good quality moonshine sells for 'bout 20 bucks. Heck, you could set up your own drinks line, your own name brand company, or winery, whatever you wanna call it."

"A winery?" I asked as Jake's statement hit home.

"Sure. Course it would take a year, mebbe two, to get all that started so if you're only stayin' the summer, there's no point. Besides, the orchard needs a lot of attention; much more than I can give it. Believe me, I've tried. I spent 3 years tryin' to rejuvenate it but, by the time I'd get halfway through, all the work I'd done at the beginnin' was ruined again."

"You think it could be restored?" I asked in a daze. I'd thought it was so far gone the best thing to be done was destroy it.

"Yeah, with 20 men to start!" Jake snorted. "You'd have to get 'em treated with pesticides for diseases, pull up all the random seedlin's, pull up all the old, dead or diseased trees, prune 'em all and replant some, clean up all the debris in the rows and between the trees, dozens of other things, too. Even then, you wouldn't see a harvest worth anything for a couple of years."

"But, it could be done, right? And you know everything it would take?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"And there are a lot of tourists around here?"

"Well, sure, but..."

"And Leah; she knows the histories behind Cullen House?"

"Yeah, some. We both do. The rest is probably in the attic or basement. What's goin' on in that head of yours?"

"A lot! C'mon Jake we've got plans to make and I'm going to need your help as well as Leah's."

**~o0o~**

"Hey, Daddy. What's wrong?" Mac hollered as Jake and I made a beeline for the kitchen.

"Nothing, bunny. Jake and I have some things to figure out, that's all. You be a good girl and stay in the back yard away from the pool, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy." she said.

As Jake and I entered the house, I thought I heard her say, _"That's my Daddy,"_ but I must have been mistaken. She was alone on the deck playing with her doll.

My mind was racing with so many ideas and plans, I felt lightheaded. Suddenly I saw the vision of what I wanted to do with Cullen House, the slave quarters and the orchard so clearly, it was overwhelming.

"Are you serious?" Jake was asking. He seemed as excited about my plans as I was.

"Deadly serious," I said.

"Well, all right! It's about time!" he exclaimed, punching the air.

"Leah, is there a notepad and pen around here anywhere?" I asked.

"There's a legal pad in the top drawer right behind you and there should be a pen with it," she replied.

Leah sat two glasses of sweet iced tea on the table as I pulled the legal pad and pen from the drawer. I headed straight for my glass and took a huge gulp.

"Leah, this is great! Is that peach iced tea?" I said, joining Jake at the kitchen table.

"Yes. I'm glad you like it."

"Do you have any other recipes made with peaches?"

"Does a Southerner like sweet tea?"

"I'll take that as a yes," I snickered.

"Did you like the peach preserves, this mornin'?" she asked, crossing the room to the pantry.

"They were awesome!" I said as I began writing down one idea after another. The next thing I knew, Leah produced a bowl of peach salsa with jalapeno and cilantro in front of me with a side of tortilla chips. One taste and I was quickly devouring the whole bowl.

"I think he likes it," Jake snorted.

"Oh, God, yeah! That is the bomb, Leah!" I said around a mouthful of the spicy sweet concoction.

"There's tons more recipes where that came from."

"Great! Will you gather them together and make some? And write down a list of anything you need from the store and I'll run into town and get it for you. I'd like to try them over the next few days. Oh, and I'm going to invite my parents down in a few weeks for Sunday dinner. Can you make something extra special for that night?"

"Sure, but I already have enough to make more peach recipes than you can shake a stick at. Don't you worry, none; your parents will have a lovely dinner when they arrive, Mr. Cullen."

With a nod of my head, I turned my attention back to Jake.

"We can do this, right? I mean, the only thing we need is manpower. The rest we can get and you two have the knowhow. How can we lose?"

"Sure I can pull off my end but can you?" Jake asked.

"Of course! I love a challenge!"

"Who has the knowhow for what?" Leah asked curiously, pulling down a stack of plates to set the lunch table.

"Edward's gonna restore the orchard, turn Cullen House into a Bed and Breakfast and..." Jake exclaimed but Leah cut him off before he could finish.

"_WHAT__?"_ she screamed.

The dishes she'd been holding crashed to the floor, exploding into hundreds of shards. She was in such shock at what Jake had told her, she didn't even seem to notice.

"You can't be serious!" she exclaimed furiously.

"Oh, but I am," I answered for Jake. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life."

"What happened?" Mac came rushing in through the back door scared to death by the sound of breaking dishes. She looked like she was about to cry with the uncertainty of what was going on.

"It's all right, bunny," I told her, picking her up to reassure her. "Daddy and Jake accidently startled Leah and she dropped some dishes. It's nothing to worry about, okay? Why don't you go upstairs and wash your hands for lunch."

She shook her head, looking over at Leah warily. The backs of her hands rubbed at her eyes while she debated whether or not she should be crying. She still looked a little unsure as I sat her back down. She walked slowly from the room looking at each of us in turn as if expecting us to do something unnatural.

"Leah, you really need to be more careful around Mac," I yelled the moment I was sure Mac was out of earshot. "I'm sorry if I've upset you again somehow but she's been through hell. Her mother's death was a tragedy no child should have to endure and I need her to feel safe and happy again. If you have a beef with me then speak to me in private and make sure Mac isn't within range!"

"Jake, you can't possibly want this! You have to convince him to change his mind!" Leah said, hoping to find some reasoning in Jake she didn't think she could find in me.

"Personally, I think it's a fantastic idea! I'm all for it," he declared.

"You don't know what you're sayin'! I know you've seen things jest like I have," she pleaded.

"Oh, give it a rest, woman! You're the only one seein' things! Only you made more of it than was really there!"

"You _know_ what remodelin' the house and restorin' the orchard will stir up! For God's…for Mackenzie's sake, Jake, please!" she begged.

"Damn it, Leah! You give it power by believin' in it. You always have. I don't," he shouted.

"_All right, now! That's enough! What the hell is it you're not telling me? If it concerns my daughter then I have a right to know!" _I seethed in outrage.

Throwing a contemptuous look in Leah's direction, Jake crossed his arms, lowered his head and refused to look up.

I turned to Leah, expectantly.

"You can't do this, Edward! You jest...you can't!" she begged.

I slammed the notepad and pen down on the table with enough force to startle both Leah and Jake.

"**WHY?"** I demanded with a roar.

"Cullen House is cursed! Not only that…it's haunted!" Leah cried, bursting into tears as she fled the room.

**AN: Well there ya go, she finally spilled her guts! But Edward doesnt really know much more than he did before. Good thing Mac didn't hear it. Tell me who you think is haunting Cullen House and why? And what's the curse all about? ~insert Twilight Zone music here~ LOL Just incase you're wondering I am going to include any recipes Leah makes in the AN So here ya go! **

******Ingredients:**

**2 ****cups chopped ripe, but firm peaches**

******¼ ****cup minced red onion**

******1 ****small jalapeno pepper, seeded and minced**

******2 ****tablespoons chopped cilantro **

**Instructions:**

**Toss all ingredients together in a bowl. Cover and chill. Serve with chips or with grilled chicken, fish or turkey burgers. Makes about 2 cups.**


	6. Chapter 6 Forging Ahead

_**AN: Wow! Really loved all the long reviews you all left me last week! Thanks a bunch! You guys are the best. As Always Special Thanks go out to my BFF Rita for all that she does! Now let's find out what's happening with Edward. **_

_**A Rendezvous with Death**_

**Chapter Six "Forging Ahead"**

"_**Now that you're there, where everything is known, tell me:  
What else lived in that house besides us?"  
**__**― Anna Akhmatova, The Complete Poems**_

**EPOV**

**Friday, March 22, 2013**

To say I was dumbfounded by Leah's outburst was an understatement. Surely she didn't believe in such things! The very idea conjured up images of the Cowardly Lion clutching his tail and praying, "I do believe in spooks…I do I do I do!" The whole idea was ridiculous! _Haunted? _Please! _Cursed? _Come on! I was aware some people took stock in the occult and I accepted their beliefs with a grain of salt but Cullen House? It was too lovely inside and out to be flawed in such an impossible manner. As far as I was concerned, what people called "haunting" usually had some form of rational explanation. I turned to Jake for some answers.

"Jake, where the hell would Leah have gotten such an idea?" I demanded.

He rolled his eyes.

"It's just an old scary story, Edward. Apparently, somethin' strange happened here back durin' the Civil War era and folks 'round town still treat that tale as gospel. But, c'mon! Do you honestly believe what they say happened more than a hundred years ago is the actual truth?"

"No, of course not!" I scoffed indignantly.

"It's a tale that's been twisted and spun, told and retold till believers like Leah have convinced others that this _neglected_ house and orchard are cursed and haunted! All it boils down to, in my opinion, is that Cullen House has been unoccupied for so long and most attempts to restore it have failed due to poor planning, lack of funds, or loss of interest, it's fed into those ridiculous rumors!

"Hell'n she thinks every bump in the night and squeaky old pipe or howlin' of the wind is a hant out ta get her!"

Jake seemed absolutely infuriated by the very idea of a supernatural cloud hanging over Cullen House and I had to admit, I wasn't too thrilled about it either.

"She said you'd seen things, too?" I had to ask. Since he was so furious at Leah, what was it he was supposed to have seen?

"There's a rational explanation for everything, even for the few things I've seen. Besides, I don't believe in any of that crap! Leah does and her belief gives her imagination power to conjure up what she thinks is real. That's all it is…her belief. I just didn't want her sayin' nothin' in front of li'l Mac. Kids are so impressionable that, if she shot off her mouth in front of her, she'd have the poor baby believin' in ghosts and ghoulies, too, and scared to death the entire time you're here."

"Do you have any idea at all about what really did happen here in the 1800's?" I asked. This subject was irritating the crap out of me and it didn't escape my attention he still hadn't answered by question. Not that I was going to let it go without one more try.

"No, not really. Nothin' I'd be willin' to repeat with any certainty and I refuse to listen to any more talk from Leah about invisible boogaboos!"

Since that was obviously all I was going to get, for now, Jake and I retired to one of the downstairs parlors I'd decided to use as a temporary office. I had no idea where Leah had gone and checked to see if her car was still in the driveway as we walked. It was. At least she hadn't quit as I'd first feared. Despite her beliefs, I was going to have to get her involved in my plans sooner or later. I needed her talents and knowledge of Cullen House, as well as all the history that lay behind it.

My plans were extensive. Cullen House would be remodeled as much as required to turn it into an upscale Bed & Breakfast. The orchard would be restored and I would use the crops myself to make peach wine. This would entail building a winery behind the Victorian house where the old slave quarters were currently located. With the addition of a distillery, I'd sell my own brand of moonshine, as well.

With legal pad in hand, I sat down at the desk as Jake began ticking off a list of what equipment and manpower he needed to tear down the old ruins clear the land since I wanted it done in a hurry. Then he filled me in on what all I would need to begin restoring the orchard. Together, we produced a makeshift list of what we thought we might need for both the distillery and the winery. The list was much longer than I'd anticipated but well within my limits. I was about to invest a huge amount of money in Cullen House and I couldn't afford to fail.

A short while later, Mac came to my office to tell me lunch was ready. Curiously, I made my way to the kitchen but Leah was nowhere in sight. Considering there was hardly any food in the house, she'd managed to put together the best homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches I'd ever eaten. On the counter was the grocery list I'd asked her to make, which I fully intended to pad with considerably more food and snacks in case Mac and I needed a snack at night. I asked Mac if she knew where Leah was but she had no idea, having come down from washing her hands to find the table had been already set for three. I guessed it wasn't all that difficult to hide in a mansion that had well over twenty-five rooms.

After lunch, Jake returned to his chores in the yard with Mac trailing along behind him. Since he promised he'd keep an eye on her, I returned to my office to work out a few more details. One thing was for sure; I was going to have Mom come down for a weekend as soon as possible for her invaluable input on the whole B&B idea. Once the remodel was done, I'd hire more staff and put Leah in charge. Her cooking was divine and would contribute greatly to the success of Cullen House. One way or another, I was going to have to get the history of Cullen House out of her. I needed to know if there was anything about this old plantation I could use to draw a crowd other than rumors of ghosts, goblins and the walking dead, which wasn't exactly what I had in mind.

If I had anything to say about it, and I did, Cullen House was now on its way to becoming a leading name in fine peach wine. The distillery was my biggest worry. As long as I got everything properly licensed, I would be allowed to sell my moonshine legally. Unfortunately, neither Jake nor I knew enough about producing real "shine." Still, I already had an awesome design in mind for the labels of both the moonshine and the wine. What I really needed right now was a good laptop and a few programs to get me started so I could get all this figured out. A legal pad was great for starters but I needed a lot more organizational power if I was going to pull this off.

By my best estimate, Jake would have the orchard damage repaired by the end of the summer. There would be a better crop next year and I would sell what I could of it, or at least what I didn't need. I intended to have Leah can as much as possible, just in case, but, by next year, the orchard should be thriving. The winery and distillery would be built by then and Cullen House would be ready for guests.

Two years…it would be two years before any of my ideas began to turn a profit. In the meantime, I would be hemorrhaging money from every orifice. It was a risky business and corners would most definitely have to be cut. On the upside, I had faith in Cullen House and I was positive my endeavors here would be successful.

No doubt Mom and Dad would be shocked when I told them my news. Before Kate died, I was about to make partner so I knew Dad wouldn't like losing me at the law firm. Maybe, once they saw this place, they would fall in love with it just as much as Mac and I had.

**~o0o~**

That night, dinner had mysteriously appeared on the table all by itself, repeating the lunch performance. Of course, there was still no sign of Leah. I thought about hanging out in the kitchen until she finally showed up so we could talk but my shopping list was extensive and I didn't want to keep Mac out too late. About half an hour after we left the kitchen, I heard the front door slam. Without speaking a word to anyone, Leah made her escape for the evening. Determined to catch her at breakfast, Mac and I left soon after.

In town, I picked out a new laptop and several programs that looked like they might be useful, along with a digital camera. Call me old fashioned, but I picked up a journal for keeping my thoughts straight. I never did care for keeping my rambling work notes and personal thoughts on a computer. Mac was allowed to pick out a few new outfits and toys, each of which she held up for my approval before tossing them into the cart as I followed along. As if I could refuse her anything.

Searching out the nearest supermarket, we started working through Leah's grocery list. At first I'd been surprised to see that she hadn't asked for peaches of any kind but when I mentioned it to Jake at lunch, he told me she had canned and put away quite a large number of jars back when Jake had tried his hand at restoring the orchard himself. As I'd suspected, it had taken two years before the trees he'd pruned and cultivated himself had produced any worthwhile fruit. Leah and Jake had gathered all they could and she had canned the whole harvest. It was brilliant. At least I'd already know what my peaches would taste like in her recipes without having to try them with store bought canned peaches.

It was fairly late by the time we'd gotten back and put everything away so, once I'd seen Mac settled in for the night, I rushed to my office to hook up the laptop and call my parents while they were still up. As it turned out, they couldn't come down for several weeks, at best. Both of them were busy with their respective clients so we agreed to stay in touch weekly and they'd make arrangements to come down as soon as possible. I decided not to tell them my plans until they were here, though. I wanted their genuine reaction to the house and grounds first.

**~o0o~**

Around one in the morning, burning eyes and stiff shoulders finally forced me to stop for the evening and, before heading up to my own room, I went in to check on Mac. I'd been worried about the balcony doors from the beginning and insisted she keep them shut until it warmed up. Although they were closed, I still walked over to double-check they wouldn't blow open and saw the locks were located at the top. Even if Mac stood on a chair, she'd never be able to reach them. I was relieved to have one less thing to worry about.

As I gently pulled Mac's door closed, I looked down and across the hall. Just past my room was a small indentation in the wall I hadn't noticed before. In fact, it was practically invisible. They only way you could possibly see it was to walk all the way to the end of the hall or stand as I just had and look directly at it. I thought back to yesterday when Leah had brought us up here. My back had been facing this direction, which is probably why it hadn't registered, but Leah had been looking this way. Intrigued, I took the few steps to the end of the hall to find a small door set back in the niche. Well, small to me. It was maybe six feet tall with the molding and door frame. Being six-four myself, I'd have to duck to get in there. Could this possibly be the attic Jake had mentioned? I tried the door knob, eager to explore what lay beyond but the door was locked. Had this been where Leah had hidden today or was this room that had her so spooked yesterday when we were touring the house? Is this room why she'd been so anxious to flee? Surely not! One thing was for certain…I was going to find the key to this door and make a thorough investigation.

**~o0o~**

I crawled into bed sometime later, my brain racing with so many thoughts, the least of which was Leah's odd behavior and strange outbursts. But, no matter how many times I tried to push them aside, they kept jumping back to the forefront. That was the last thing I remembered thinking about before I fell asleep.

_Someone was calling to me in a sweet, sing-song voice. It was a beckoning sound full of joy yet somehow lost and lonely, as well. In my dream, I walked out to the balcony and peered over the edge. A smile spread across my face as a full moon shone down upon the pristine lawn. Rows and rows of peach tree saplings bloomed in the orchard bordering the lawn. A female figure all dressed in white flitted between the trees before dancing across the grass into view, the bright moon lighting her gown with an ethereal glow._

"_Edwaaaarrrd..." she called. _

_Coming closer, she held the hem of her nightgown in one hand and waved up at me with the other. I couldn't quite make out her face but there was no question that I knew her…she was my beloved. Thunder and lightening ripped through the sky as the night grew instantly black as pitch. _

Rain poured down from the heavens and an earsplitting scream, followed by a booming clap of thunder, jolted me awake. To my horror, I found myself standing at the railing of the balcony, soaked to the bone and shivering. The wind howled like a banshee, causing the French doors to my room to slam repeatedly.

**AN: Ooohh! Where's Leah disappearing to? A curse? What's that all about do ya think? A mysterious locked door? Cullen House has more questions than Edward's orchard has peach trees! And now Edward is sleep walkin? What's next? I'm all ears guys! Tell me your thoughts.**


	7. Chapter 7 A Chill in the Air

**AN: I have to send out a special Thank you to Tarbecca for recing this story ****on the Fic Dive over at ADF. And thanks to all those that started following me from her rec. It is **_**greatly**_** appreciated! I'm looking forward to hearing from you all in the coming chapters. As ever my BFF and beta Rita01tx was a huge help on this chapter and many thanks go out to her. Now, on to Edward and all the things that go bump in the night!**

_**A Rendezvous with Death**_

**Chapter 7 **_**"A Chill in the Air"**_

"_I woke with sweat beading across my forehead and my hands balled into fists clutching the sheet over my eyes. The dreams. They were back. Haunting me relentlessly. I thought they were gone... I should've known better. (Rayne)"  
_**Kimberly Brockman**

EPOV

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Dawn was close to breaking when I woke from my dream to find myself on the balcony, soaking wet and chilled to the bone, with no earthly idea how I'd gotten there. I'd never in my life walked in my sleep...and that dream! What the hell was that all about? Regardless, I was freezing my ass off and it was way too early to be up. Making a quick dash to my bathroom, I stripped off my wet things and slung them over the shower curtain rail, leaving them to drip dry until morning. Grabbing a towel, I roughly dried my hair as I walked into my bedroom and dug around for dry pajama pants and t-shirt. By now, that big bed was calling my name and I hightailed back into it and snuggled down underneath the linen sheets, eiderdown quilt, and heavy comforter until I was cocooned up to my nose. Another hour slowly ticked by but sleep was obviously not in the cards. I finally gave up once the sun had completely risen. That strange dream had been incredibly disturbing but worse was that, even now, I absolutely could not get warm. My very bones felt as if the cold morning air had seeped into them.

With a heavy sigh, I flipped back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed running all ten fingers repeatedly through my hair. I snatched my robe off the nearby chair and made my way to the bathroom once again. After a quick check in the mirror, I decided not to shave today. After all, I was sort of on vacation. Shedding my clothes, I climbed into a hot shower for some relief from the cold. Once I felt reasonably thawed out, I searched out my heaviest cable knit sweater, jeans and a pair of loafers and dressed for the day. It might have seemed like overkill but I still felt chilled. I walked across the hall to check on Mac before heading down stairs. My little angel was still sleeping peacefully. Satisfied that she'd be okay until I came back to wake her, I headed down to the kitchen for coffee. Once I made it downstairs, I was noticeably warmer, thank God.

It was quarter to seven and I was surprised to see Leah here and already busy.

"Good morning, Leah," I said, greeting her warily.

"Good morning. Would you like coffee?" she responded politely.

"Yes, thank you," I answered gratefully.

"You're up early. Trouble sleeping?" she asked as though nothing strange had transpired yesterday.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. The wind blew the balcony doors open last night and I wound up getting quite cold. Couldn't seem to get warm nor back to sleep after that. How early do you get here every morning?" I asked. I wasn't about to tell her why I was really awake so early.

"Usually, between six-thirty and seven. There's a lot to do every day so organizing my time is essential if I want to get things done on schedule. I've figured out a way to get every room cleaned in a week's time but it requires a ten-hour day to do it. Two weeks a year, I get Jake to help clean the crown molding and chandeliers I can't quite reach even with a ladder."

"Wow. I can well imagine all the work involved. By the way; do you know anything about the room at the end of my hall? I noticed last night there was a door there but the room is locked," I inquired innocently, or so I wanted it to seem.

Since she'd been so skittish about being upstairs, I was anxious to see her reaction. Now that she had revealed her beliefs about Cullen House, I wasn't sure what to expect. She kept herself busy moving around the kitchen as she spoke, never making eye contact. This prevented me from reading her expression but the hesitation and slight tremor in her voice belied the nonchalance she was trying to hide behind.

"Yes, I know. According to what my mother told me, it leads to the attic and, as far as I know, it hasn't been unlocked since she was housekeeper here. Obviously, I've never seen it myself so I have no idea where the key might be," she replied unconvincingly.

Now, I'd heard a lot of cock and bull stories in court, fighting for the rights of my domestic abuse clients, and that story was full of more BS than any of them. Trouble was, I wasn't sure what part was a lie.

"Well, there's no telling what treasures are hidden up there. Maybe I'll get someone to take the door off the hinges when we begin the remodel," I responded casually, hoping I'd shaken her up enough to tell me the truth. To my surprise, she kept her cool; however, she did change the subject.

"If that's what you want, I don't see a problem. I was just about to start breakfast when you came in. Would you like to try peach stuffed pancakes?"

"Absolutely!" I replied, my stomach rumbling in agreement.

I'd never had peach stuffed pancakes and wasn't quite sure what she was referring to but, within minutes, the kitchen smelled heavenly and my mouth watered so much I had to swallow continuously. The plate she sat before me was an absolute work of art. Half of a very large pancake had been filled with what appeared to be warm peach pie filling and toasted pecans. The other half was folded over the top like a taco topped with a little more peach filling, pecans and a dollop of whipped cream. Hot sausage patties were served on the side, along with orange juice and more coffee.

"You said you wanted to try some of my recipes. Well, that's one of them…I hope you like it," she said, pride sparkling in her eyes.

"Are you kidding? The aroma alone is worth dying for. The taste has to be even better," I exclaimed, and indeed it was. When moans of delight burst from my lips with the first bite, I perceived a small smile creeping onto her usually somber face. Working alone for years with no supervision, hearing praise for a job well done must have been nonexistent until now.

"Your breakfasts are going to make this B&B a huge success, Leah," I proclaimed.

"If you say so, Mr. Cullen," she shrugged.

It hadn't escaped my notice that she refused to make eye contact with me any time I mentioned Cullen House.

"I do and it's Edward, please," I insisted.

My hope was that putting us on a first name basis might lessen the tension a little. Maybe she'd even open up a bit more. I wasn't ready to let her know just how much I was depending on her culinary know how and knowledge of Cullen House's history to make my future plans a success. If she were to have any idea how much I really needed her, she'd very likely see to it I failed. No; I had to get down to the root cause of her belief that Cullen House was haunted first.

"Alright; I'll call you Edward when it's just us but, when there's company, it'll be Mr. Cullen," she agreed, albeit with a qualifier…sneaky woman.

"Agreed. So you're okay with me turning Cullen House into a B&B, now?" I queried, daring to broach the subject that seemed to set her off yesterday.

"I can't stop you from trying, Edward," she sighed.

"Trying? I have every intention of succeeding," I snorted.

"We'll see. For your sake, as well as for Mac's, I hope it goes well," she said, deeply involved in cleaning an invisible spot from an already immaculately clean counter top.

"We'll see? It sounds like you think it's not going to happen," I grumbled.

"I believe you are a determined man used to getting what he wants. However; in this case, I think you're going to fail," she stated, as if it were a foregone conclusion.

"How so?" I complained in annoyance.

"I think whatever hovers over this house isn't going to allow it!" This time, she looked me dead in the eye as she spoke with not even the hint of a smile on her face.

"Hi, Daddy!" Mac squealed, racing across the kitchen to give me a big hug.

"Hey, bunny! I was just about to come and get you!" I laughed, hugging her little body tight for a few precious seconds before plopping her down onto a chair to eat.

Seconds later, Jake came strolling through the back door. It wasn't hard to figure out that he'd come in hoping to snare some breakfast. The aroma from Leah's cooking must have drawn him in like a bee to honey.

Not wanting to continue our conversation in front of Mac, I had no choice but to let Leah's ominous comment slide…for now.

For the rest of the day, I was unable to find a chance to speak with Leah again. One of us, usually me, was either busy or absent, or Mac was in the room. I'd expressly forbidden Jake and Leah from discussing Leah's spooks in front of her because Jake was right. Mac was in a vulnerable state with an impressionable mind.

From then on, Leah refused to discuss any strange goings on she might have witnessed with me. When I tried to talk to her about them in private, she would say I didn't believe her anyway so there was no point talking about them. If she was wrong, then fine but, if she was right, I'd find out soon enough and, _when_ I did, I was going to owe her an apology.

**~o0o~**

Friday, April 5, 2013

A couple of weeks had passed since I'd decided to turn Cullen House into a B&B. By now, the weather had turned quite a bit warmer so we didn't need to wear jackets or sweaters outside anymore. Just as Jake had told me, the peach trees hadn't gotten many more blooms on them once the weather had warmed up. He explained how the peaches would grow sparsely and rot quickly. Despite the fact that I hadn't yet informed my parents of my future plans, I went ahead and told Jake to hire all the workers he'd need to tear down the old slave shacks and to begin restoration of the orchard. They worked all day and, although I knew little about peach trees, even I could see a huge difference in the ones they'd tended to and the ones they hadn't.

Things hadn't changed much since Leah revealed her belief that Cullen House was cursed and haunted, either. One particular day, I found her in the kitchen staring out the window at Mac. My "Daddy" senses ramped up to high alert without any other provocation.

"Something wrong, Leah?" I'd asked.

So intent on watching Mac, she hadn't heard me. She leaned forward as though straining to see something through the window and I took a few steps closer to stand slightly behind her and to the left. All I saw was Mac having a pretend tea party. Her little table was set up on the lawn with four tiny cups and saucers, a teapot, plastic cupcakes, and four small chairs, two of which were occupied by her favorite dolls. She sat in one, chattering away to her dollies, while the other one sat empty. I searched the yard for Jake, or any of the men he'd hired, but no one was near her.

"Is something wro..."

Leah nearly jumped out of her skin and clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming when she finally noticed me. She'd trembled so hard, I had to help her over to the table so she could sit down. It had taken a while for her to calm down. I'd checked on Mac several times to make sure whatever had spooked Leah so badly was me and not someone messing with my baby girl. If Leah hadn't been so distressed, I would've called Mac to come inside just so I'd feel better.

"What is it, Leah? What did you see?" I pleaded when she'd finally calmed down enough to answer.

"Nothing. I didn't _see_ anything. But you scared the crap out of me!" she exclaimed.

"Then why were you staring so intently at Mac?" I asked.

"Edward, you're a wonderful father. Seeing you and Mac together literally warms my heart. You are so good with her and I can tell she adores you but...you don't see everything," she grimaced, wringing her hands.

"Such as?" I asked, slightly miffed. Mac was my pride and joy...my very reason for living. There was no way I'd been ignoring my own daughter.

"Haven't you noticed? She's got an imaginary friend, now," she stated.

"A whaaat?" I gasped.

"Oh, it's true. Watch her…_listen_ to her when she's playing alone. At first, I was worried maybe one of the orchard workers was hanging around but, the other day when it rained, she was talking to someone I couldn't see. She's doing it right now," Leah said, jerking her chin towards the window.

I was both irritated and touched by this new side of Leah. Her abrasive attitude had been the only thing that had made coming here unpleasant. I had been under the impression she hated children and didn't want them around. But, by now, I'd seen her stroke Mac's hair gently with her fingers many times as she passed behind her. Hell, she'd even smile at her when she wouldn't smile at me. She would talk to her when they were alone together in the kitchen and she was kind to Mac in a friendly, babysitter kind of way. Yet, this told me she was actually looking out for Mac.

I walked back to the window to observe my daughter and, sure enough; she was having a tea party for four! She kept looking at the empty chair and speaking to someone who wasn't there. Guilt flooded through me, along with worry and a sense of panic. Everything had been so wonderful since we'd arrived at Cullen House. Why was this happening, now? Was I not paying enough attention to her? Had coming here been a mistake? Did this have anything to do with missing her mom?

"What does she say to her...friend, Leah? Is this something I should be worried about?" I asked apprehensively.

"Sweet things, mostly; the kinds of things she might say to me. I don't think you need to worry; just…be aware. It all seems innocent enough to me and it's not that uncommon in pre-school children. My nephew had an imaginary friend when he was little but it only lasted the summer. It could simply be that Mac needs more interaction with kids her own age," she said, which was reassuring until I had another thought.

"Or, it could be something else. Something could be wrong with her," I whispered under my breath as cold fingers of dread squeezed my heart.

**~o0o0o~**

Monday, April 15, 2013

It wasn't until all my business plans had been drawn up, with timelines, itinerary, expenditures and anything I could think of, that I called my parents to invite them down for a weekend. Unfortunately, being tied up with clients and cases of their own, they couldn't stay as long as we'd all like. Their plan was to arrive shortly after breakfast and stay through dinner. After that, they had to catch a flight back to Chicago.

Mac was excited to learn that her grandparents were coming to visit. From the moment she'd finished breakfast, she sat in the music room staring out the window just waiting for a glimpse of their car. It reminded me of the few days it had rained since we'd been here and she'd been unable to go outside to play. She'd curled up in the overstuffed chair by the window and moped for a while but, eventually, she'd fished out her favorite DVD, "Beauty and the Beast," and watched it over and over again. Now, she would often refer to Cullen House as the enchanted castle.

The moment Mac spotted a rather large, black four-door sedan coming up the driveway, she jumped up and ran for the front door, shouting, "Poppy and Grams! They're here, they're here!" She stood hopping up and down on the front porch clutching her favorite bunny until the car came to a complete stop. Then she tore down the stairs to the passenger's side to greet her Grams. I was as excited as she was for them to be here but I managed to contain myself…barely. Jake had been right; summer did start in April down here in the South. The weather was absolutely delightful, right now, with warm days blessed by very gentle breezes ending in cool nights. He had also warned me that, come June and July, it would feel like hell fire on earth, sometimes. I thought of the huge front porch with its comfortable lounge chairs and porch swing, Leah's peach iced tea and the pool out back and, somehow, I found myself looking forward to experiencing his so-called "hell fire on earth."

"Dad!" I greeted him warmly with a handshake, a clap on the back and, finally, a big sideways man hug. Having worked at the law firm together, I hadn't been able to call him Dad or greet him as my father. In the beginning, it had been awkward addressing him as Carlisle but, eventually, I'd gotten so used to it, I'd even started calling him by his first name at home. I would always feel guilty about it when I realized I was doing it but, now, I didn't have to worry about that anymore. Just one more comfort I could chalk up to owning Cullen House.

Mom already had Mac in her arms, smothering her in kisses and telling her how much she'd missed her while I waited impatiently for my turn. Once all the greetings and hugs had been passed around, my parents turned their attention to the house. Dad was now holding Mac in his arms as we all stood looking up at Cullen House

"Edward! She certainly is magnificent! Maybe I should've come down here and taken a look at her myself," my father teased.

"Too late, Dad. She's all mine. You won't believe the inside," I laughed proudly.

"It is beautiful, Edward, but do you really like living away from a big city like Chicago?" my mother queried.

"We both absolutely love it, Mom. It's so peaceful!" I assured her.

"No doubt it is but I think it's a little too quiet for me. Without my familiar city noises, it would certainly keep me up nights!" she sighed.

"It's definitely a big change from Chicago but, in the short time we've been here, it's done wonders for Mac and me," I replied.

"I love it here, Poppy. Wanna see my room? It's really big and all pink! Can we show 'em, Daddy? Can we?" Mac pleaded.

"Of course we can, bunny," I chuckled at her enthusiasm.

Dad set her back down on her feet to lead the way but she ran to my mom and grabbed her hand.

"C'mon, Grams! I gotta show you the rug Daddy bought me. I mights need some pretty pillows on my bed, though," she pronounced with a small frown between her eyebrows.

I had to laugh hearing her say that. The interior designer gene ran very deep indeed.

"Let me grab my purse, Mac," Mom said, turning back to open the passenger's door.

As she emerged from the car, she seemed to hesitate for a moment, brushing the back of her neck with her fingers.

"Something wrong, Mom?" I asked, noticing the confused look on her face.

"No, not really," she said, looking up at Cullen House. "I just thought the South would be warmer by now. I'd swear someone just pressed an ice cube to the back of my neck."

"Hurry, Grams! There's tons of stuff you gotta see," Mac cried, impatiently tugging at her grandmother's hand, eager to show her all the treasures of Cullen House.

I allowed Mac to start the tour in her room and we worked our way down instead of doing it the traditional way. She was so excited, I didn't have the heart to refuse and beamed with pride as she made sure to point out the things she thought were unique to each room and what she thought each room needed. Of course, my mother was absolutely delighted and often agreed with her. She was absolutely delighted by all the antiques and couldn't help interjecting when she found a coffee table or chair to be completely out of sync with the rest of the furnishings in the room. At these moments, I would nonchalantly ask if she knew what would look good in its place, or what would she put there instead and where she would get such a piece, if she had to. As I suspected, she always had an answer and grew more and more excited as the tour progressed. It wouldn't take much to get my mom on board for the Cullen House B&B remodel and I was now very glad I'd spent countless hours taking detailed and panoramic pictures of every room with my digital camera. I would email them to her tonight so she'd have them by the time she got home.

Once again, I noticed Mom brushing the back of her neck with her fingers and looking around, usually behind her. I was starting to worry at this behavior but didn't want to say any anything in front of Mac. By the time we'd made our way down to the second floor, she was hugging herself and shivering.

"Mom, are you all right? You're shaking," I asked worriedly.

"I'm fine…just really cold. How do you stand it, Edward? Isn't there a heating system installed?" she asked, looking absolutely miserable.

"Honestly, it feels nice and warm in here to me, Mom. I've always been quite comfortable inside. You must be coming down with something," I concluded.

"I agree, Esme. There's nothing wrong with the ambient temperature. Are you sure you're feeling all right?" Dad asked, checking her forehead for signs of a fever.

"Yes, I'm just very cold," Mom insisted.

"I'll get you a sweater," I suggested, wondering where I'd put them when I unpacked.

It wasn't until I'd left the room that I remembered the few times I'd woken up so cold I was unable to get warm until I dressed and stepped outside. Many of those nights, I'd even found myself on the balcony in he middle of the night after having strange dreams. Other times, I simply woke up feeling like an industrial sized air conditioner had been turned on in my room. I returned to my parents a few minutes later with a tan cardigan that practically swallowed Mom's petite frame but it only seemed to help a little. As we made our way out to the orchard, she warmed up enough to take off the sweater and was completely fine, just as I had been. However; once we were back inside the house, she was cold again. Considering it was much warmer now than when Mac and I had arrived, it was a very odd thing, indeed.

After lunch, I left Mom and Dad alone to spend time playing with Mac while I compiled all my plans and photographs for my future endeavors here in Macon. I wasn't seeking their approval, although it would be a comfort to have it. This would be my way of letting them know Mac and I would be living here on a permanent basis and that I was leaving the law firm.

Leah had promised a special meal for my parents and, if it was anything like her every day cooking, we were in for a treat. What I never expected was the culinary feast she set before us with her artistic hands: heirloom tomato salad with fresh herbs for starters, peach glazed pork tenderloin with a side of white chocolate-lavender mashed potatoes, accompanied by a very nice MandraRossa Nero d'Avola 2008 wine, and vanilla bean crepes with peaches and cream for dessert. Dad was ready to hire Leah away from me.

Over dinner, I explained everything I had in store for Cullen House and, all and all, it went over pretty well.

"Oh, Edward! This could be made into a beautiful Bed & Breakfast! With all the stories and battles that took place in the Old South, why, I'm sure you could dig into the history of Cullen House and use what you discover to draw a huge crowd of tourists on a weekly basis," Mom gushed in excitement and I could already see the wheels turning in her head.

"That's exactly my plan, Mom. Leah knows some of the history of the house so I'll need to sit down with her soon and have a long talk. The rest I can either look up online or research at the library, if necessary. Right now, I'm more concerned with getting the orchard repaired and learning all I can about making wine and moonshine. It's so much more involved than I originally thought," I told them.

Mom was ecstatic at the prospect of getting to redo all the bathrooms, as well as the kitchen, where needed. She agreed with me that some of the bedrooms just needed small touches like period tables or chairs, new paint, or wallpaper; whereas, others were in dire need of much more TLC. The bathrooms were outdated but she felt most of them could be redone by simply replacing the fixtures. By the sound of it, I was going to get off easy on the financial side.

As I went into detail about the process and the equipment required for starting a winery and moonshine still, Dad was instantly intrigued and impressed with my plans, thus far.

"Just make sure you get all the permits and things you need to sell that wine and moonshine legally, Son. I don't need to be defending you in a lawsuit," he chortled gleefully.

"Don't worry, Dad. I have no intention of becoming an outlaw," I sniggered.

Mom and Dad offered their assistance with anything I might need but, other than Mom's help with the remodel, I was sure I could handle the rest. Still, it was nice to know they supported me in this life changing endeavor. Even though they were disappointed I was moving so far away and taking Mac with me, they seemed to understand. They'd both seen a huge change for the better in Mac and me and agreed that living in the country was doing wonders for us. I told them Mac had been sleeping like a baby and that my strangling dream hadn't made an appearance even once since we got here.

"That's wonderful, Edward! So, you really think it was the constant reminders of Kate and how she died that kept her in your subconscious and caused that dream?"

"Apparently, it was. It's the only explanation I have for why it stopped so suddenly after all those months," I agreed.

Of course, not a day had gone by since arriving that I hadn't thought of Kate, if only for a moment, or looked at Mac and seen Kate in her. I still missed her and I would always love her but it was slowly getting easier. Not being surrounded by her things helped a lot and having a goal and a future planned for Mac and myself was very helpful, as well. Unfortunately, talking to my parents had brought it all to the surface again and, for the first time since arriving, I'd relived the day of Kate's death all over again.

I didn't tell them about the other strange dreams I'd been having, or of Leah's belief in ghosts. There was no point giving them any reason to worry.

Mac had gone off to play when we had retired to the parlor for coffee and brandy. Mom took the opportunity to bring up the subject of her new imaginary friend.

"Edward, darling. When we went into Mackenzie's room to visit with her, she was talking to someone but there was nobody there. She said it was her invisible friend and only she could see her. Are you aware of this?"

"Yes, Mom. I know about Mac's 'friend.' It's a recent phenomenon and, although I was more than a little shocked at first, I did some research on the subject and, as it turns out, it isn't as worrisome as it sounds. It's actually fairly common in children her age. Add the fact that her mother is dead, she's been taken out of Kindergarten, and we've moved away from everything familiar to her, it would be more surprising if she hadn't developed an imaginary friend.

"But don't worry. I'll be monitoring the situation. Hell, I might even contact some child psychologists, just to be on the safe side," I assured her.

"Where did she come up with the name of 'Belle' for her new…friend?" Mom wondered.

"Well, I did hear Leah telling her that young unmarried southern girls who lived in places like Cullen House were called belles one day and, as you know, "Beauty and the Beast" is also her favorite Disney movie. She still watches it every night and anytime she gets bored, or when it rains. I think it's really cute and quite imaginative, considering we're living in a plantation home in the South."

**~o0o~**

That night, to my horror, I woke up from the damned strangling dream. Each time I'd had it in the past, it had gotten incrementally worse, making me more and more certain I was going to die. This time made all the others look like a walk in the park. It was so bad, I had actually jumped out of bed and slammed myself against the wall hoping to unblock whatever it was causing me to choke. There was a difference, though. The whole time I'd been struggling to breathe, it felt less like choking on food and more like being physically strangled. Just as quickly as it had come on, the dream left. For no apparent reason, it just stopped, for which I was eternally grateful. However, I'd noticed another difference…it was extremely cold in my room. So cold I could see my breath. I checked the thermostat and watched it drop from sixty degrees to fifty-five in a matter of seconds! I thumped it twice with a flick of my fingers and it stopped. I waited several minutes, rubbing my sore neck and watching the gauge but it never moved back up. Confused and emotionally drained, I lit the gas fireplace and crawled back under the covers.

The clock on my nightstand read twelve thirty am. I couldn't fathom what had brought the strangling dream on again, after all this time. Seeing Mom and Dad maybe? Being reminded of my old life? Worry over Mac and her new friend? Stress from what I was about to undertake here at Cullen House? Guilt over actually being happy for the first time since Kate died? Take your pick. I guessed any one or a combination of them all could have triggered the strangling dream. Maybe, while I was calling psychologists to ask questions about Mac, I'd check out a few adult psychologists for myself!

I lay there all night, eyes wide open, freezing and pondering all I knew and didn't know since arriving at Cullen house.

**AN: At Rita01tx's suggestion I am going to create a separate page for the recipes so that in the future I can keep these AN's short and sweet and let you all get on with the reading!Oh my! So much goin' on now! Leah saying the ghosts is gonna have a fit LOL and Little Mac with an definite imaginary friend named 'Belle'? And poor Edward! So much on his mind and now he's being tormented by his own dreams! What could possibly be coming next? Tell me what ya think! I reply to all reviews!**


	8. Ch 8 Flying Peaches and Broken Backhoes

_**AN: will not allow me to post the recipes here but you can find them at Fiction Pad under RobsFan~tasy stories as "ARWD Recipes" ********Thank you all for your lovely reviews! As always, a fist bump to my girl Rita01tx for her editing skills.**_

_**A Rendezvous with Death**_

"_The cries of the dead are terrible indeed; you should try not to hear them."  
_**Phillip K. Dick**_**―Valis,**_

**Chapter 8 "Flying Peaches and Broken Backhoes"**

**May 5th 2013**

**EPOV**

It had been an eventful three weeks since my parents had come to visit for the day. It was almost as if their visit had been a turning point.

I had entered the kitchen one afternoon to get a cup of coffee when I saw Leah standing in the middle of the room her hands over her mouth just gaping at the cabinets. All of them were open including the drawers.

"Leah! What are you doing?" I'd asked. She came running towards me, grabbed my arm obviously terrified.

"Watch, be real quiet and watch." She whispered frantically.

"What is it I'm supposed to see?"

"They'll close again all by themselves. Just watch." she whispered. I was not happy about this but to prove a point I waited a good ten minutes and nothing happened.

"This is not funny and moreover it's not going to work Leah. I don't believe in ghosts! I am going to make Cullen House a B&B so you can stop this foolishness right now!"

"But Edward I didn't do this! I swear!" She cried as I turned my back on her and returned to my office. I couldn't deny that she seemed sincere when she claimed innocence but what the hell else could it have been? There was no such things as ghosts and a ridiculous stunt like that was not convincing. She was the only one who seemed to not want to make Cullen House a profitable business. It was the _why_ she was so against it that was bugging me. I couldn't figure it out.

I was nearly back to my office when I heard a tremendous bang from the kitchen. I raced back to see if Leah was alright and she was still standing where I'd left her near the kitchen table. All the cabinets and drawers were now closed.

"See!" She cried vehemently. "They closed all at once just like I said!"

"Sorry Leah, I'm not buying it. Nice try though." I quipped. I figured the more concern I showed during her antics the more she would keep trying to get me to believe that Cullen House was haunted.

"You just wait Edward Cullen! You'll see! Sooner or later you'll find out I'm right!" She called after me.

A week or so later I saw her leaning against a bookshelf in one of the parlors. She was irritated but emotionally distraught as well.

"Leah? Are you all right?"

"Yes I'm fine Edward." she replied though she made no attempt to move.

"Are you sure? You don't look...right." I couldn't place my finger on it but there was something wrong about the way she was just standing there.

"You won't believe me anyway so there's no point in going into it." she stated.

"Oh not poltergeists again!" I moaned.

"They're not poltergeists! They're sp..." before she could finish her statement the lights went out. "...spirits." She finished on a whisper.

"Leah," I began calmly "this is an old house there's a lot going on around here I'm sure it's just a blown fuse."

"In only one room?" She questioned as she nodded towards the hall. Light from the adjacent music room spilled out into the hall. I'd never known that to happen before but it didn't mean that lights in other rooms that were on the same fuse weren't blown as well. It made sense that these two rooms would be on the same circuit but that didn't mean that they were.

"Those lights probably aren't on the same circ..." Slowly, as if to prove me wrong one by one the lights in the room came back on as though someone were walking around the room at a leisurely pace flipping the switches. As the last light and the one closest to me came on I felt a chill in the air as cool as a winter morning and then it was gone.

"That's the third time that's happened since I've been in this room." Leah whispered. I turned round in a circle slowly taking in all the lights and the chandelier unable to believe what I'd just seen. But to say it was caused by a supernatural spirit from beyond the grave was a stretch! "Do you believe me now?" She asked still whispering.

"No Leah I don't but if it will make you feel better I will check the fuse box myself." I said leaving her alone in the room. I heard her growl in frustration as I left the room.

Leah seemed to grow more and more distant and cold. In all the time we'd been here Leah had never once sat down to lunch or dinner with us though Jake always stayed for lunch he rarely stayed for dinner. It made me wonder where she went. What was she dong while we ate? Even more upsetting was that she seemed to grow more obsessed with her belief in ghosts and more disturbed by the work going on around her.

Thinking back I now realized Leah's strangeness hadn't been the only things that had gone wrong. Come to think of it, even _before_ Mom and Dad had come to visit I remembered Jake having trouble tearing down the shacks.

When Jake and the workers had started tearing down the slave quarters, several arguments had broken out among the men a few times. One accusing the other of messing around and moving their tools. The other proclaiming his innocence the entire time. Jake had resolved the issue by separating the two men only to have it happen again with a new guy. Once that had been settled a different man started a fight claiming one of his co workers was throwing debris at him on purpose.

After 2 days of this Jake had gotten my permission to just get a backhoe and demolish the buildings with it to cut down on time and aggravation. All went well for about thirty minutes. Then the backhoe started acting up. At first the shovel on the front of the machine wouldn't work. He had tried to raise the shovel and it stuck in mid air. Jake turned the thing around and as he drove towards the building it stopped. He backed up and tried again but no matter what he did the machine would only work in reverse and when he switched to the shovel again it wouldn't come down out of the air. To my dismay a few of the men quit stating the old rumors were true and that Cullen House was indeed haunted and cursed. I couldn't imagine a grown man, or woman for that matter believing in such nonsense so strongly that they would quit a job they obviously needed because they believed the dead were walking about!

The next day I found out that the rumor was one of the workers, an older man had burned white sage and using a feather fanned the smoke over the backhoe. After that it had started working again. I could only imagine what had actually happened was that the old man knew what was wrong with the backhoe and had fixed it.

With the backhoe in use again the decrepit old buildings came down in a day. However cleaning up the debris had been some what of a chore. The backhoe had filled the dumpster almost full but there was still some room for the remaining debris. The men would carry it over in shovel fulls and dump it only to have the wind blow it back out. I personally hadn't seen any of this. I'd heard it all second hand from Jake who was understandably irritated at the men for believing in these rumor to such a degree that they would quit a job or say that they had practiced old magic to try and stop the curse! I scoffed at the very idea.

After that they had begun working on the orchard and had similar incidents happen with pruning sheers vanishing, having rotten peaches chucked at their heads piles of debris scattered back over areas that had just been cleared.

It seemed like at every turn some worker either in the house or on the grounds was having one issue or another. It only got worse when the construction workers arrived. They were currently upstairs scraping off the old flooring and wall tiles. Every once in a while you'd hear one of them yell when the cold water came on while they were scraping. They'd swear they'd turned the water off but come on, how could it turn on if they had shut it off? Again tools went missing and would be found in a different bathroom. After so many incidents of all this it actually became funny to me. I had seen nothing besides the lights in the parlor for myself (which had to be an electrical problem) so if they wanted to say they had a rotten peach chucked at their head or were given a cold shower by a ghost then so be it. I thought our "resident ghost" had a hell of a sense of humor. Basically I agreed with Jake, your belief in something gave it power, real or imagined. If there was such a thing as a ghost at Cullen House (Not!) it couldn't hurt you or do anything to you unless you believed in it. The more you believed in it the more it was going to try and prove it was real or "communicate" with you. If there was no ghost but you believed there was, you would cause things to happen to feed that belief. The more it was fed the more powerful it grew. Case in point, I was the only one at Cullen House who had not heard the rumors and did not believe in ghosts and I was the only one who had not had some "event" happen to them. That was all the proof I needed that ghosts were not real!

All this was nothing really. My biggest concern was Mac. Since I had discovered Mac had created an imaginary friend for herself I had made a huge effort to spend a lot more time with her. I Took time out to sit down and color with her. Despite the fact that there were approximately 20 men watching I chased butterflies with her. I had tea parties in the garden with her where I occupied the seat her imaginary friend had been in. I watched Beauty and the Beast with her until I knew it forwards and backwards. In an effort to get her to "let go" of Belle I got her to watch other Disney princess movies with me. We played games inside on the rare occasion that it rained. When I absolutely had to be in my office I would bring her with me and she would play on her toy computer or color on the floor around my desk. If someone needed to speak to me in private Leah usually stayed with her, baking cookies or letting Mac help her dust. As long as Mac was with someone "Belle" never came around. It was only when she was alone that you could hear Mac talk to her.

My other concern was the dreams I was having. Strangely the strangling dream had only happened that one night. Since then it had been a myriad of strange dreams. In one I was standing in the pouring rain in the dark screaming my heart out. I felt as if my soul was dying. In another I was waving from my balcony to the female figure of 'my beloved' down in the orchard though I still could not see her face. In another I was raging drunk and mad as hell. While I liked a brandy after dinner I was by no means what you would call a drinker. None of the dreams made any sense and I attributed them all to living in the plantation style mansion.

**~o0o0o~**

**May 6th 2013**

**EPOV**

On May the second I made my way to the kitchen as I had every morning only to find that Leah was not there. I made coffee and waited thinking she was just running late or something. When she didn't show up I went looking for Jake and he was no where to be found as well. Later that after noon Jake finally called.

"I'm sorry we weren't there this morning Edward. A friend of Leah's and mine was killed yesterday afternoon." His voice cracked as he spoke and my heart went out to him.

"I'm so sorry Jake. Give Leah my sympathies as well." I said. It was the proper thing to say but I wanted to say more. Those sentences seemed so lame. I really liked Jake and despite her antics and beliefs I thought Leah was a really good person inside. If she could get past her fears I thought we'd actually become friends as Jake and I had.

"We need a couple of days off if it's all right with you to make funeral arrangements and attend the funeral."

"Yes of course Jake! Take all the time you need, both of you." They must have been very close to whoever it was if they were the ones making the funeral arrangements. Usually it was family who did that.

Today was the sixth and I was surprised to see Leah back in the kitchen when I came down to fix breakfast for Mac and myself. There were several jars of peach preserves on the counter top and Leah was standing a few steps away from them crying hysterically.

"Leah," I said softly as I approached her. "Come on sit down. I lead her to the table and got her some tissues then poured her a cup of coffee. Because she was so upset I added a splash of brandy to calm her nerves. "Leah, if you're not ready to come back to work then don't. Your job will be here when you are ready. I know how hard it is to lose someone you care about." I stroked her arm as I spoke hoping she would calm down.

"It's not that Edward." She sobbed. "Well it is but it's not why I started crying. I just... I don't think...I can...do this again."

"OK. Calm down, catch your breath and when you're ready tell me what's gotten you so upset. Take your time I'll wait." I told her. I was in no hurry and I felt bad for her. I had no idea who had died or how close they were but it must have been someone dear to her. After a long while of trying not to cry and several drinks of her brandy laced coffee she was finally calm enough to talk.

"I wasn't crying over my...friend. I was upset because of the peaches." She said. I didn't know what I was expecting her to say but it wasn't that.

"Excuse me?"

"The peaches, in the jars. I set several of them out because it's supposed to be hot today. I was going to make a couple pitchers of peach Iced tea for you and the workers and I was going to make Mac some frozen peach pops."

"And?" I asked trying to understand what she was getting at.

"I set them on the counter an got out the tea and then..." she turned and looked at the jars then and looked back at me. Her eyes were pleading with me to believe her.

"What Leah? Whatever it is I promise I won't get mad."

"Every time I reached for a jar it flew off the counter!" she said. As the last word left her mouth she flinched as though she were expecting me to yell at her. Instead I got up and walked around the corner to see if what she said was true. Sure enough there was a mess of broken glass and peaches all over the floor at the end of the counter. I could tell from the lids that there were three broken jars there. Still, I didn't believe they just flew off the counter by themselves. I walked back to where she had been standing and reached for a jar. I picked it up and put it down without any problems. I knew from my work at the law firm that people could have mental illnesses that they weren't even aware of. Leah didn't seem the type to me but I was no doctor. Still, I didn't believe it.

I did the only thing I could do. I returned to the table, sat down, took her hand in mine and said,

"Alright Leah, you obviously believe this house is haunted. That leaves me with three options. 1. You may have a mental illness," at this she started to bulk and pull away in anger but I refused to let her hand go. "But I don't believe that for a second. 2. You're doing this on purpose to either get my attention or scare me away but I can't fathom why. It's not to steal anything, you've had plenty of opportunity before now. Or 3. Cullen House really is haunted which you know I don't believe. Those are my options and I don't believe any of them completely so I have to turn to you. I need you to tell me what you know about Cullen House. Why is it haunted, who is haunting it and what is this curse about?"

******AN: Wow! All that and Edward is _still _in denial. Although his reasoning does make sense if you're a non believer. What do you think is going on? So there it is he finally asked the question you've all been wanting him to ask. Come back to get the answer. Till then tell me your thoughts!**


	9. Chapter 9 Going Home B

**AN: Hi everyone! Thanks for all the great reviews! You all Rawk! This Chapter may throw you for a loop but hang on it's about to get really interesting!**_****_

A Rendezvous with Death

"…_I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;_

_That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings…"_

~Joyce Kilmer _**The House with Nobody in it."**_

**Chapter 9 **_**"Going Home"**_

**Friday, May 31, 2013**

**BPOV**

The road stretched out before me like a blank canvas. I remember thinking that the colors and brushes I chose from life's palette would paint my world, tell my story and, in the end, reveal my destiny. How wrong I was. Little did I know my path was set upon a course I couldn't change…

I'd been traveling for four days. Unable to raise enough money to buy a plane ticket, I'd been left with only one option…to drive my '53 Chevy pick-up truck the 1,929 miles from Phoenix, Arizona to Macon, Georgia. How ironic that my reason for going to Georgia in the first place was to inherit more money than I could earn in a lifetime. It was just as well I was driving. This way, I could bring Sam with me. He was currently stretched out on the old bench seat, with his head on my knee.

My mother had nicknamed my pick-up Izzy, as in "Is he gonna make it." I kept telling her not to hate on my truck and her reply was, "I'm not hating on him, Bella. I'm worried because he looks like he's going to have a nervous breakdown any minute."

"Never say the words break and down in front of Izzy, Renee. He might hear you," I'd laughed. Just because my truck had a neurotic male personality didn't mean it wasn't reliable…so far.

I could've made the trip in a day and a half but my vintage truck wouldn't have liked that. As it was, I was pushing my luck by taking four days to get here. He complained when I drove for more than three hours and, when I pushed him to eight hours, he started having conniption fits! After the first day of driving for ten hours, I had no choice but to pull over at a gas station and fill the radiator with water. After that, I could only drive for eight hours at a time if I wanted to reach my destination so, while I was at it, I bought five gallons of water because there were long stretches of road through Texas where there was nothing as far as the eye could see.

The long drive had given me time to think.

The reason for this trip was still mind boggling and I used the time to wrap my head around what had happened and what I wanted to do. Two weeks ago, I received a letter informing me the father I'd never met, a police officer in Georgia, had died in the line of duty. While trying to stop a bank robbery, he'd been shot three times, the final shot being fatal. Renee received the call on the day he died, May 1st, and had been completely crushed at the news. Even though they'd been divorced since before I was born, they had truly loved one another. I knew they'd stayed in contact but, how often and to what extent, I didn't know.

As it turned out, he'd left me a rather substantial inheritance. In short, he had three very valuable items: a home handed down to the first born of the Swan family since the early 1800's, an heirloom necklace, now worth as much as the house, that had belonged to some ancient relative, and a million dollar life insurance policy to be divided equally between my twin sister and myself. Being first born, the house was left to me and I couldn't have been more thrilled. I had to go to Georgia to collect both, of course, so I turned in my notice at work and, on the 28th of May, I left for my new life in Georgia.

My mother had raised my sister and me as a single parent. According to Renee, she and Charlie had divorced amicably over irreconcilable differences. Renee was a true city girl, thriving on the hustle and bustle, while Charlie liked the quiet, country life of a small town where you knew everyone and everyone knew you. Renee had left my father and filed for divorce before realizing she was pregnant. She eventually told him when she found out she was having twins and they attempted to reconcile. Unfortunately, he wouldn't leave his lifelong home and she couldn't live another day in the small Southern community. They kept in touch and stayed friendly over the years but he never asked to see us. Renee said it was because he didn't feel right about tearing a family apart for six months a year, every year. He wanted us to have a stable, normal environment where we didn't feel torn between our two parents. I never understood that myself. A part-time, loving father would have been better than no father. At any rate, he'd always taken care of us financially. There was never anything we needed that wasn't provided. After our High School graduation, Renee met a man named Phil and, a year and a half later, they were married. I liked Phil. He was a nice guy and he made Renee happy.

Carrie and I may have been identical twins but, other than that, we were nothing alike. Carrie was a self-professed fashionista, keeping up with all the latest fashions and everything associated with the industry. She spent hours poring over fashion magazines, trying new make-up styles and hair do's, and yearning for designer clothes, shoes and material items she would never own. Fashion meant nothing to me. I liked the overalls I painted in, or jeans, and kept my hair in a simple headband or pony tail. While Carrie thrived in a bikini, I was comfortable in hoodies and flannel shirts.

Although we had the same facial features, Carrie always managed to look glamorous and pretty whereas I always looked…well, plain. When I was forced to dress up, Renee would say I looked lovely. Carrie would smile and say "Oh, Bella!" and then give me a hug. Carrie was graceful, outgoing, flirtatious and fun-loving. I was a clumsy, painfully shy, awkward wallflower. Carrie wanted to be in the spotlight. I was content to stay at home and paint. Carrie had always longed to be a famous movie star. It was all she thought about. I can remember endless hours of sitting or lying side-by-side on the floor with her watching movies and later watching her reenact the role of the leading lady. I spent even more hours helping her with her lines for school plays. Despite our differences, we were very close. We might have been sisters but we were also best friends.

There were other differences, as well. While I was calm and patient, Carrie was antsy and very impatient. We had both been working for the local super center when, one day about a year after Renee and Phil were married, Carrie had just had enough of manual labor and minimum wage. She packed her bags and moved to California swearing there was no way she'd ever get a part in a movie living in Phoenix and perhaps she was right. As of right now, it had been a year since she'd left and she hadn't landed a role, yet. Ironically enough, she was waiting tables at an upscale restaurant on Rodeo drive. At least she made good tips.

Once Carrie moved to California, I'd felt like a third wheel in my mother's new marriage. Phil traveled a lot with his job and Renee always stayed behind, just for me. She liked to hover and, when Phil left town, she chose to stay and loom over me incessantly. Even though I was a twenty-two year old adult, and they were free to come and go as they pleased, Renee always made sure they were never gone for an entire day so she could get back to spend time with me. Obviously, I had to do what Carrie had done…move out, start my own life, and leave them alone to live their lives together as a couple. But, before I had saved up enough money to even seriously begin looking for somewhere else to live, Charlie had died.

Where Charlie was concerned, I had mixed emotions. Of course, I felt remorse and a sense of loss that I would never get the opportunity to know him. I was angry he was gone now and that he'd never made any attempt to get to know me or Carrie while he was alive. I was grateful, however, that he had provided Carrie and me with a tremendous head start in life. It had come at a time when we all needed a fresh start. Now, Renee and Phil could travel together, Carrie could afford to go on all her auditions without worrying about earning a living and, now that I had a degree in art, I could finally improve my skills by spending time working on my paintings instead of stopping in the middle to go to work or school. For that reason, it was a blessing. I knew Renee wouldn't worry about us financially anymore but I guess nothing would stop a mother from worrying about her children in all other areas.

When I finally arrived in Georgia, I was never so excited to see a Welcome sign in all my life.

I've missed my sister very much but I would see her in a few days. Like me, she needed to come to Macon to claim her inheritance. It was a stipulation in the will that Carrie and I had to come here, to my father's lawyer's office, to sign the papers and claim the deed to the house and the heirloom necklace in person. I don't know why Charlie put that clause in his will but something told me that, even though Renee never liked it here, he wanted his girls to see his way of life for themselves and make up their own minds about how they felt. After all, we were his daughters…we had his DNA, too.

Charlie must have been a smart man because this whole inheritance thing was all taken care of. All I had to do was go into the lawyer's office, show my identification, sign half a dozen papers and I'd be all set. The money had already been deposited into a local bank in my name, ready for disposition. I had the option of leaving it there or having it wired elsewhere…no two-week hold, or anything. It had all been very official, efficient, and cold. They couldn't, or wouldn't, tell me anything about Charlie. With the deed, house keys, and directions to the house in my hand, I was more anxious than ever to see my new home.

Just a little over three miles away from my destination, I began taking notice of the surroundings. While Macon was a large, picturesque town with grand old homes and buildings dating back before the Civil War, this part of town was very rural. Large tracts of freshly plowed fields and peach orchards were intermittently interspersed with the most marvelous old Victorian homes.

I soon found Weeping Widow Road, a name I thought rather morbid, and made the turn. On my left, a peach orchard was just beginning to bud. I didn't know much about horticulture but it seemed to me these trees should have been in full bloom by now. All the other orchards I'd passed had been, with some turned completely green already…all but this one, the largest orchard I'd seen so far.

As I drove further down the street, a brief glimpse of a huge, white plantation style house flashed far off in the distance, next to the orchard. It made me smile, although I had no idea why. I imagined the trees in full bloom, with fragrant, pink blooms framing the mansion in the background, would be a beautiful sight. Unfortunately, a long, tree-lined drive prevented sight of the mansion from the street, except in that one spot.

I turned my attention to my right, knowing I should be getting close to the home I'd just inherited. Izzy seemed to slow of his own accord as we approached a lovely, sage green Victorian home sitting back upon a small knoll. I couldn´t help admiring its graceful turret, large, wraparound porch, and long path of steps leading up to the front door. It was so lovely, it took my breath away.

I checked the house number against the one the lawyer had given me. Stunned to see they were the same, I slammed on the brakes without even bothering to see if anyone was behind me. It was then I noticed the sign out front confirming this was, indeed, Magnolia Manor. As if further evidence was required, a lovely old magnolia tree in full bloom stood sentinel over my new home on its left side. On the right, closer to the house, was an ancient, giant oak. I don't know how long I sat in my truck, in the middle of the street, staring at the house, unable to believe my good fortune. This beautiful, completely furnished home _and_ half a million dollars was actually mine? It was just too good to be true. The lawyer had told me there were five bedrooms, an office, living room, dining room, a parlor on each floor, eat-in kitchen, sitting room, three bathrooms, laundry room, screened-in back porch and a large, sprawling back yard with a gazebo. All that made it impressively larger than it appeared from the front view.

I drove around to the driveway, pulled up to the house, and parked. The smell of magnolia blossoms enveloped me the moment I opened my door. It was so wonderful, like a welcome home hug. Sam lunged out of the truck, glad to escape after such a long drive. I didn't bother with my luggage or personal items, yet. I was far too anxious to walk through the house and check it all out, first.

"We're here at last, Sam…home!"

Having watered a few border shrubs, he bounded back to my side. I scratched his soft head and he followed me up to the door.

A thrill of excitement surged through me as I turned the key in the lock. My very own home and, so far, I loved everything about it. As the lock gave way, I had a horrifying thought. What if the inside was done in Victorian Neo Gothic style? It would be so dark I wouldn't be able to stand it. The front door opened onto a large foyer and I sighed with great relief. It was light and lovely.

All the trim, crown and chair rail moldings were painted white, as were the stairwell spindles. In stark contrast, the handrail and steps themselves were stained a highly polished black. Instead of wallpaper, a lovely, light beige and sage green material covered the walls. Its swirling vines, leaves and the occasional pheasant were so strategically placed as to create a striking scene. Something told me this wall treatment was original to the house and I loved it instantly. Much to my delight, the hardwood floors, although obviously quite old, were in very good shape, adding a certain charm that could only be accomplished with age. A large, narrow tapestry rug ran the length of the room from the staircase on my right to the open door at the end, directly in front of me.

Instantly, I imagined a round table in the center of the foyer so that, every time I came in the front door, I could put my purse and keys down on it. Of course, it would need a large vase of fresh flowers each day for accent. For now, however, I laid my purse and keys on a white bench sitting against the staircase near the front door and continued to the door at the end, which opened onto the screened-in back porch.

I could absolutely see myself sitting out here, having long talks with Carrie or just listening to the crickets chirp, reading a book or enjoying the floral sent of the magnolia trees on a hot summer night. The backyard was nicely manicured and massive in size, with a winding path through the garden leading to a gazebo. Stifling the squeal of joy I felt building within me, I turned back inside and went to check out the living room.

Painted a dark cream with white crown molding trim, the entire room was furnished in cream with accents of gold and crystal, while three tall windows allowed the bright Georgia sun to spill in. The room was divided into 3 sections: the sofa as one conversation area, another consisting of two chairs and an ottoman and, across from that, two different chairs in the same fabric with a coffee table between. The final touch was a massive crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the ceiling. I didn't know everything about period furniture but what I did know told me this was perfect. It was Victorian in appearance but far more modern than I had expected.

Now that I thought of it, it seemed odd that Charlie would have lived with such feminine looking furniture. Then again, maybe he was simply maintaining the style of the house. I wished he were here to explain.

Tracing my steps back across the foyer into the dining room, I smiled to see the walls painted a soft blue with white trimmed woodwork. Blue satin curtains framed the windows standing between domed niches on either side of the room, which were filled with a lovely display of Wedgewood plates and bowls. The gleaming table was set for six with matching chairs covered in a white material. White place mats and crystal goblets made up every place setting, along with plates on chargers and silverware, just waiting for guests to arrive. A crystal chandelier above the table caught the late morning light that sparkled across the table. I could only assume the table remained set for dinner since Charlie had been...gone for quite a while, now. It made me a little sad for a moment to realize he wouldn't be receiving any more guests and I promised myself this table hadn't seen its last dinner party. I'd make sure of it in honor of his memory.

When I returned to the foyer, Sam was sitting at the bottom of the stairs looking up, wagging his tail as if asking permission to go investigate.

"C'mon, Sam. It's all ours, now. We can go wherever we want to!" I told him.

I ran upstairs, Sam keeping up right beside me, and checked out all the rooms. All but one was done in the same feminine, Victorian fashion, with high-backed fireside chairs, lace doilies and tablecloths, as well as frilly, ornate curtains and floral wallpaper or delicately painted wall colors. The one bedroom that was different was decorated very simply, with a brown plaid bedspread, a square night stand, and a dresser. There were no other items in the room except for a rather large corkboard with a collage of more than 100 photos depicting me and Carrie growing up over the years. This must have been Charlie's room. Again, my joy was momentarily dampened and I decided I wasn't going to deal with this right now. I closed the door gently and quietly, as though he were in there sleeping. I realized how silly that was and shook it off. What I needed to do was start making this place my own.

With that thought in mind, I bounded down the stairs, intent on grabbing my keys and going out to unload my stuff from the back of Izzy. I went straight to the bench where I'd left my keys and…they were gone. _What the hell? _My purse was still there so I rummaged through it to see if maybe I'd dropped them inside it but I knew I hadn't. I distinctly remembered setting them on the table right beside it. I dropped to my knees to see if they'd fallen on the floor under the bench but they weren't there either. As I started to stand, I turned my head and saw my keys under the table…across the hall. _How the hell had they gotten there?_ Given all the energy and excitement running through me when I arrived, I supposed I could have easily brushed them off the table as I'd passed by a couple of times. Not entirely convinced that was the case, I shrugged it off, grabbed up the keys, and returned to my truck.

It was then I realized the long, tree-lined driveway belonging to the white plantation house I had admired was lined up diagonally with my front porch. _Ha!_ We were practically next door neighbors. Maybe, in the winter, when all the foliage was off the trees, I'd be able to see the house all aglow against the freshly fallen snow. Having never seen a real white Christmas, the thought made me smile. This might be the South but, surely, it snowed here once in awhile.

Retrieving the first bags of clothing I laid my hands on, I carried them inside, dumped them at the base of the staircase, and returned for another load. The bed of the truck gave up its contents quickly as I made my way back and forth to the house, with Sam on my heels the whole time. He seemed just as happy and excited as I was. Juggling the last load of bags, I pushed the door open, carried them to the foot of the stairs, and put them down next to the rest of my stuff.

In all the excitement to get my things and start settling in, I'd forgotten to check out the kitchen. With so many rooms, I wasn't surprised I'd overlooked one or two but, for now, I was all about finding the heart of my new home. I grabbed my purse off the end of the banister, intent on making some notes about the things I'd seen, so far. W_ait, when had I hung it there? I couldn't remember. _But, first and foremost, I needed to make a grocery list because, boy, was I was famished.

Finding the feminine Victorian kitchen fitted with modern appliances was another cause for a squeal of joy. It was absolutely perfect just the way it was. There wasn't much about the house that I wanted to change, if at all. Oddly, the little round table in the corner, just big enough for two, was set as though the home's occupant, and perhaps a guest, would be coming down for lunch at any moment. It was unsettling, really.

There were other things, too. I was just beginning to notice that the house was "set up," almost "staged," as if it were going on the market to be sold and I didn't like it. I hurriedly put the place settings away in the cabinets and started checking the refrigerator and pantry for food. They were completely bare, of course. I wondered if the lawyer had made arrangements to have the food removed before it spoiled. After all, it had been three weeks since Charlie had died and he'd been buried three days before I received the letter. That thought led to wondering if his things were still upstairs in his room or if they'd been removed, as well. I decided not to think about that right now. Eventually, I'd have to go through his room and personal belongings but I wasn't looking forward to it. Maybe I'd just wait until Carrie got here to help me. He was her father, too, and, if his things were still upstairs, there might be something she'd want to keep for herself.

I sat down at the little round table and began making my grocery list. I got up many times to double check what was and wasn't there. Was there a cookie sheet? A crock pot? A skillet? Anything I could think of but couldn't find, I added to my list. I loved to cook and Carrie hated it, another of our many differences. I was hoping she'd stay with me for a while and, if she wouldn't, maybe I could entice her with some home cooked food. After finishing my list, which would no doubt include more once I hit the stores in town, I set about making a separate list of things I wanted for the house. I took my time and walked from room to room, avoiding Charlie's room all together. It was strange that he'd been gone for nearly a month and, as far as I knew, no one had been here at all. All things considered, it was quite neat but, seeing as I was a clean freak, it wouldn't hurt to do a little dusting. Renee and Carrie were both messy and loved clutter. I, on the other hand, liked things to be neat and well organized. Judging by this house, I assumed it was another trait I'd inherited from my dad.

My trip to town had been invigorating. I fell in love with everything about the place. It was wonderful to find everyone so welcoming, even though I knew they were whispering things behind my back like, "That's Chief Swan's daughter," "Poor thing, losing her father that way," and so on. I didn't mind. It was to be expected, after all, right? Once they all got a good look at me and got used to the fact that I was here to stay, the talk would die down. They were all very kind and very helpful, despite the whispering.

I only bought groceries and some much needed cooking items on this trip. There would be time for my extensive shopping when Carrie arrived. We'd make a day of shopping, eating out, spending some money without worrying about whether or not we could afford something. It would be wonderful!

After I returned home, put away the groceries, and enjoyed my first dinner in my new home, I began putting my things away. I'd chosen one of the larger bedrooms for myself. It was more feminine than I was used to but I still loved it. The closets were all huge and my tiny wardrobe seemed swallowed up inside.

I'd just put on my PJ's and settled down on the canopied bed when my phone chimed with a text message from Carrie. She always text messaged rather than called because it was cheaper. Even though I missed the bubbly personality I always heard in her voice, I was glad to hear from her in any form.

**To: Bella**

**From: Carrie**

**Subject: So?**

**Hey sis, how ya doin? Did you get there finally? I hope Izzy didn't leave you stranded.**

**How's the new house, is it creepy? Miss you. See ya soon.**

**C~ xoxo**

I quickly typed a reply.

To: Carrie

From: Bella

Subject: All's well

The house is Fabulous! I'm sure you'll hate it LOL. Hoping you'll stay for a while now that you're rich. Izzy was a trooper! Don't hate the truck! :P Miss you too!

B~xoxo

I sat back on the bed to wait for her reply, which didn't take long.

**To: Bella**

**From: Carrie**

**Subject: Not likely.**

**Izzy is like a lame horse. You may love him but it's time to shoot him, put him out of his misery and get a new one! You are rich, I'm still broke till the first of the week. Tell me, what's it like to want for nothing? Not likely to stay more than a night, Sis. Gonna get my money and run, as they say. I need new head shots and clothes, a complete makeover, if I'm ever going to make it in the movies.**

**C~xoxo**

She most definitely did not need a makeover. Compared to me, twin or not, she was stunning. I hoped she would change her mind about leaving so soon. I hadn't seen her in a year and I wanted her to stay. I was going to do everything I could to keep her here, at least for a while.

To: Carrie

From: Bella

Subject: Fly

Let me buy you a plane ticket. You can be here tomorrow night and then we'll both be rich and you can stay longer. I'll pretend you didn't say that about Izzy! *Hmph!*

B~xoxo

**To: Bella**

**From: Carrie**

**Subject: Thanks but no.**

**I can't. I have a great audition lined up in two days but after that I'm free. I'll be there soon though. Gotta get to work now.**

**Miss you much, Love you more.**

**C~xoxo**

To: Carrie

From: Bella

Subject: Bummer

OK but I intend to bribe you in every way possible to get you to stay.

Miss you much, Love you more.

B~xoxo

I hit send and held onto my phone, hating that she wasn't planning to stay. I…_what the hell?_ My heart slammed in my chest and I tossed my phone to the foot of the bed as if it was a venomous snake! With a trembling hand, I reached forward to retrieve it but, just before I picked it up, I pulled back, too afraid to touch it. _Holy crap! _They were still there! Two angry, green eyes appeared on my phone _staring right at me!_ No face…just those eyes! With the last ounce of courage and determination left in my body, I swallowed the lump in my throat and picked it up. _Thank God! _They were gone.

A reflection! It had to have been some kind of reflection from the chandelier, or a lamp, or something. My eyes roamed around the room searching for the source of the strange effect but I saw nothing that made me think it could have caused the odd phenomenon. After four days on the road, all the excitement over the inheritance, and the inner turmoil of moving, I guess I must have been hallucinating from exhaustion. Lying in bed that first night, in the dark, I was unable to forget those eyes, or whatever they were. They sure had looked like eyes…mysterious, dark, brooding, angry eyes. Getting up again, I turned on the lights just as they had been. My tired eyes sought out every nook and cranny of the strange new room but found nothing to account for such a peculiar reflection to appear on my phone. Since I wasn't going to figure it out any time soon, I crawled back into bed and promptly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**AN: Ah ha! I bet you all thought Edward's ghost was Bella didn't you? Now she has gone and moved in across the street and by the looks of it she has a spook all her own! Who can these disgruntled ghosts be and why are they hanging around? Got any real life ghost stories of your own? I would _LOVE_ to hear them! I may even include a fictional version of them in a future chapter, with your permission of course! **


	10. Chapter 10 Getting Answers

_**A Rendezvous with Death**_

**Chapter 10 "Getting Answers"**

_"If the dead can't rest in peace, how on Earth can the living?"**  
Cheri Revai **_

**Sunday, May 5, 2013**

**EPOV**

"You mean you want me to tell you about it now?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"Does this mean you believe me?"

Her hopeful expression made me feel bad for her. I had no choice but to dash her hopes.

"No, but I am willing to listen without judgment, regardless of what I believe," I promised.

"Okay. Well, I guess I'd have to start with my ma since she worked here for many years. Now, I already told you she somehow knew things and we didn't question her. One of the things she told us was that she could sense a lost soul wanderin' the house and grounds of Cullen House. Nothin' happened for years but Ma always said she had a feelin' of never bein' alone in the house or on the grounds. Someone from your family named Lawrence, whom I imagine was your grandpa, came here to the house in the spring and summer of 1980 with the idea of sprucin' it up enough to sell it. I musta been around seven at the time and Ma wouldn't leave me home alone," Leah explained.

The name Lawrence had me puzzled since I knew it wasn't, in fact, my grandfather's name. Since I couldn't recall who it might have been, I made a mental note to ask Dad next time we spoke.

"You were seven in 1980? That would make you forty, now."

That set me back on my heels because, when I'd first seen her, I assumed she was my age. She certainly looked to be in her early thirties, maybe even younger, but her hair had been down and she'd been wearing make-up. Now, apparently distraught over her beliefs and grieving the loss of a loved one, I could see she was indeed older than I'd thought. It also made a difference that her hair was in a bun and she wasn't wearing any make-up. The tiny lines and wrinkles around her eyes were clearly visible, today.

"Yeah, Ma was thirty-two, at the time. Anyway, I would come to work with her and help out as best I could for my age and size. I remember her sayin' even then that it would be good trainin' for me when I took over from her.

As for Mr. Lawrence, Ma said he was a kind, soft-spoken man with a gentle heart. All was well until the renovations began. He started with the upstairs rooms, makin' 'em smaller and addin' bathrooms. I don't know what haunts this house, Edward, but it sure as hell didn't like the house bein' changed!" she asserted.

Even though I was determined to listen with an opened mind and refrain from making any unnecessary comments until I'd heard the full story, my shoulders were already tensing.

"Let's just pretend for a moment you're correct. This ghost is dead. Clearly, it has no use for such earthly things as bedrooms. Why would it care if they were changed or if toilets and showers were added?"

"Ha! That's really funny 'cause I asked my ma that very question. I'm goin' to tell you what she told me. Some ghosts don't know they're dead. They may have died suddenly or unexpectedly so, to them, whatever they were doin' just before they died they continue to do for all eternity, unless someone helps them cross over, rights the wrong that was done to them, or someone with the gift sees them," Leah said, expounding her mother's teachings as though they were gospel.

"The gift?" I questioned.

"The gift of second sight. You know, as in people who can see and, in some cases, communicate with the dead."

"Okay. So what does a ghost that doesn't know it's dead have to do with renovating the house?"

"Well, look at it from their point of view. You're in your home and everythin' is just as it's always been when, all of a sudden, the floors start comin' up all by themselves, wallpaper gets ripped off the wall by an unseen hand, other walls come down or start changin' colors for no reason. Livin' or dead, if you saw somethin' like that, it would scare the livin' bejebus outta you."

"Yeah, I suppose it would," I admitted.

"Like, if jars of peaches suddenly appeared on the countertop when they weren't there before, you'd get upset and instantly want them as far away from you as possible," she expounded, gesturing towards the jars she'd laid out.

I smiled and gave a single nod of acknowledgment. She smiled, but not in triumph.

"But, if that were true, you're saying they can't see us either?"

"Right and wrong.

Wrong because there are some spirits who choose not to move on, who are fully aware they have died and stick around for different reasons. Those who are aware they are dead are also fully aware of the livin' around them.

Right because those who don't realize they're dead don't see the livin'. Their world remains the same as when they died. As long as you don't go changin' things on 'em, you could live here and never know it was haunted, unless you were a medium, or sensitive, or..." she trailed off as though reluctant to voice whatever was on her mind.

"Or?" I pressed, determined not to let her back down now. I needed answers and I was going to get them, one way or another. Even if I believed it was all a bunch of malarkey, I needed to know what had her so freaked out all the time.

"Or a child."

She flinched as she said it, as though she was waiting for me to fly off the handle, or something.

I didn't. I had no idea why she thought I would. The truth was, what she said had made my blood run cold. I didn't believe in ghosts and spirits but the very thought of a child talking to the dead was just too creepy to contemplate.

"Children, especially young children, are completely open-minded. They are impressionable and willin' to believe anythin' they see or hear. They're full of energy as well as a spiritual light that would be like a beacon to the dead. It's not till they grow older that they close themselves off and develop opinions of their own, based on real life experiences.

"Okay, go on."

"Well, Ma always told me that, when ghosts start seein' these changes bein' made around them, they get angry and scared. When a ghost gets angry and scared, it absorbs energy from whatever source there is…batteries, light bulbs, cell phones, micowaves, anythin' electrical. When they draw enough energy, they can move things and fight back."

"Like the jars," I offered as a way of letting her know I understood what she was saying. However, understanding what was being said didn't mean I was buying into all this ghost nonsense.

She smiled again. Actually, it was more like a small grin of gratitude for not scoffing at her like I had in the past.

"Anyway, Mr. Lawrence went into full renovatin' mode, just like you."

She glanced up at me as she said this last part, wanting to gauge my reaction. Years in court taught me not to react in any way and I could tell by her expression she was disappointed. She couldn't read me and couldn't tell if I was beginning to believe or not.

"Every day that Ma and I came here, things got worse. Lights would flicker on and off. Workers complained of losin' things, havin' things moved on them, gettin' shocked by electricity when they had turned the power off, just like yours have. I remember Ma was furious more than a few times cause she'd put a roast, or a meatloaf, or somethin' in the oven and, when she'd come back to check on it a little while later, the oven would be cranked up to 500 degrees and her dinner would be burned. I couldn't tell you how many times the burners would get turned off when she was usin' the stove top.

"Then Mr. Lawrence started changin' the downstairs parlor at the same time as his bedroom, which happens to be the room you chose for yourself. That's when things really ramped up. Cabinets would open and close repeatedly, like a child havin' a fit and slammin' them over and over again, except all the cabinet doors were doin' it at once. Ma would set the dinner table and, the second she was done, all the place settin's would fly backward and crash into the walls as if someone sittin' in the center of the table had shoved them all outward with incredible force all at once. Some days, Ma would have fresh cut flowers straight from the garden put in every downstairs room and they would freeze in seconds. This was in the middle of summer, mind you, with no air conditionin' in the Deep South! I could tell you dozens more things like that but, by now, I think you get the point, right?"

"Yes, I get it. What happened then?"

"One day, Ma and me were havin' our usual troubles downstairs and tryin' our best to get through the day when we heard Mr. Lawrence let out a bloodcurdlin' scream from upstairs. Ma made me stay in the kitchen and she went runnin' up after him to see if he was okay. He was clutchin' his heart, starin' at the corner of the room near the ceilin', and pointin' with his other hand. Apparently, he was havin' a heart attack. Ma never told me what all he said before he died. She told me it'd scare me too bad but I heard rumors from folks who said he'd lost his mind…others believed him. They said he swore he'd seen a ghost and it was mighty angry. Swore up and down he'd hear things at night, wake up freezin' in his room despite havin'a roarin' fire goin' with all the windows and doors closed. He was also supposed to have said that, after he'd move the furniture around in his room and go to bed, his furnishin's would be put back in their original places when he woke up the next mornin'. He said he never was aware of the furniture bein' moved while he slept, even the very bed he was sleepin' in, but it did…many times. The doctor was convinced he'd had some kind of mental breakdown and the poor old soul never did get out of the hospital. He died there a few years later, in '86, still claimin' there were ghosts at Cullen House.

"Now, I'll be honest with you, Edward. I never saw a ghost. I haven't to this day but I have seen plenty of things move all by themselves and there has to be a reason. I've seen flowers freeze in a vase on a hot summer day and dishes fly across the room. There's only one 'logical' explanation for the things I've seen and that is that some people don't cross over when they die. Their souls hang around and, when you mess with their world, they make their presence known to the livin'!" Leah declared.

"You said Mr. Lawrence died in the hospital. If he wasn't around anymore, how did Cullen House get finished?" I asked suspiciously.

"He...he was so like you. He had everythin' all figured out before a finger was lifted. The paint colors and tiles were all picked out and he even had the fixtures and everythin' bought and ready to install. Before the doc declared him mentally incompetent, he'd given orders for the house to be finished exactly as he had planned. The workers finished the job as quickly as they could, grabbed their money, and ran, glad to escape with their lives."

"Did the 'haunting' stop once the changes had been made?"

I was sure she would say yes but her answer surprised me.

"No, not at all. It was just as bad, if not worse. The toilets would constantly flush, water was turned on and left on, and the new wallpaper was ripped off the walls, among other things. Whoever haunts this house was angry and determined that everythin' should be put back the way it was. The ghost was now strong enough to move furniture all through the house and, although some of the pieces were different, they'd be put back in their original places. Mr. Lawrence had a constant stream of people comin' in to repair damages since most of them would only last a day."

"But it did stop, eventually?"

"Yes. Thanks to Ma. She made me come to work with her one last time. She said I had to 'cause I'd seen too much and she didn't want the ghost to attach itself to me so I came with her and watched as she performed a cleansin' over me and the house."

"A cleansing?"

"Yeah. There are many ways to do it but, basically, you say a few prayers while burnin' white sage and, usin' a feather, you fan the smoke away from you. That's how you chase the ghost from room to room and right out of the house. Once you get it out of the house, you have to place a ring of salt around the property to keep it from gettin' back in."

"Salt?"

"Yes! I can't remember why anymore but, for some reason, spirits can't cross a ring of salt. It works like a security fence to keep them out."

"And your mother did all these things?"

"Yes."

"Well there you go. You just said your mother sent the ghost to the other side so Cullen House can't be haunted!" I declared triumphantly.

"I said no such thing!" Leah cried. "I said Ma chased it from the house. Some spirits are bound to the place where they died until their death is set to rights. Some never move on no matter how many rituals you perform 'cause they _can't_ go. Whatever, or whoever, haunted this house at the time still walks the property and always will, unless it's invited back in or it's crossed over somehow."

"How do you know that? Did weird stuff keep happening?"

"No. Ma said she could still sense it hangin' around and, whenever she was outside, she always felt like she was bein' watched. She'd get cold chills in the middle of summer and she didn't ever feel welcome after that. Besides, I don't know how it happened but the ghost is back _in_ the house. The things I've witnessed are proof of that," she stated adamantly.

"OK, if the ghost is bound to the property but can't enter the house, how could it get back in?" I asked.

"Well, sometimes people move into these houses and do things, spiritual things, that purposely invite them in. Sometimes they come back in because someone completely oblivious to the fact they are ghosts. A child, for instance, might unwittingly play a part in their reentry. In some cases, people ask ghost hunters to come in to investigate or, if a building is abandoned, ghost hunters will enter the property and, in an attempt to prove their existence, inadvertently invite them in. Haven't you ever seen one of them haunted house shows?" she asked incredulously.

I'd heard of them, of course, but I certainly hadn't watched any of them. To me, it was all foolish nonsense. Nonetheless, she certainly seemed to have an explanation for everything, at least in her mind. However, there was another issue we needed to address.

"Leah, I remember you saying the house was not only haunted but cursed, as well. You were very, very adamant that the two things were separate. How is Cullen House supposed to be cursed?"

"Well, in all my years, nothin' and no one has ever prospered here. No one has stayed for more than a few months, six at best. There's a poem about it I grew up hearin'. I've never understood it, though."

"Do you remember it still?"

"Yeah, it goes…

_Until the dark spirit is freed_

_From that which it's bound_

_The curse will remain_

_Upon Cullen ground._

_No fruit will she bear_

_No prosperity make_

_Till the wrongs have been righted_

_For those whom justice forsake."_

As if to prove her point, one of the remaining jars of peaches went flying off the counter in the opposite direction from the others and smashed violently against the wall.

******AN: Special thanks to Rita01tx as always or her editing! Well there ya go! Leah finally spilled her guts. Tell me your thoughts!**


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